er was made to
my cry, and soon Dango came working his way through the grass up to me.
The tears streamed down his cheeks when he saw me, for he thought I was
killed. Unarmed it was useless for him to come to my rescue, and from
behind one of the dead elephants he had watched the proceedings of the
rogue. He was now almost as anxious as I was to ascertain what had
become of Nowell and the natives. He feared, as I did, that the rogue
might have caught them.

The conduct of the brute was a fair example of the mode in which rogues
generally proceed. He had waited concealed, probably close at hand,
while we were attacking the rest of the herd, and then the instant he
saw that we were unprepared, had dashed out on us. Had I attempted to
run when he got near me, he would have killed me in a moment by striking
me on the back; or, had I not jumped aside, he would equally have
finished me by a blow on the stomach; had he struck me on the shoulder,
he would only have knocked me down, so that the mode in which I was
struck was the only one by which my life could have been preserved.
Dango hunting about at length found my rifle, on the stock of which the
elephant had actually stepped, leaving his impress on it, and I having
picked up my cap, after loading the rifle, we followed the track of the
retreating rogue towards the spot where we had heard the last shots
fired.

On we went till we came on the huge body of the rogue, with Nowell and
the natives standing near. He was measuring it, and found it nearly
fourteen feet in height, a huge monster even for Ceylon. He had heard
my shot, and even when he saw the rogue with a wounded head, believing
that I had turned him, he had had no notion of the danger to which I had
been exposed. I was helped to a stream of cold water which flowed down
from the mountain, and in this my thigh was bathed till the pain was
somewhat assuaged. A litter was then formed of bamboos and creepers, on
which the natives bore me back towards the spot where we had left the
horses, while Dango led away the poor little poonchy. At first the baby
elephant cried and roared most lustily; but, on food being given it,
after a short time it seemed reconciled to its fate. A young elephant
is very soon tamed.

Mr Fordyce was delighted to see us back after our long absence, for he
had become really anxious about us. He could scarcely credit the
account we had to give of the number of elephants we had killed,