st a
tree, or upon the ground, the elephant, in one of his mad freaks, flung
him from him as though he was a ball. He spun through the air, the
leaves and limbs whizzing against his face and body, and instinctively
clutching with both hands, succeeded in grasping enough branches to
support the weight of his body and check his descent.

Then, when he collected his senses and stared around, he found that he
was a dozen yards above the ground, with the elephant beneath, looking
up, and apparently waiting for him to fall within his reach, that he
might finish him.

"Not much," muttered Billy; "I'm going to stay here and I don't believe
you know how to climb a tree. Helloa! how do you like _that_?"

Jack Norton had dashed only a few yards, when the terrified look he
cast over his shoulder told him the elephant was giving his whole
attention to Billy, and seemed to have forgotten all about him.
Instantly he was filled with alarm for his young friend, and started
back to the log to get his rifle, that neither had thought of in the
panic.

As he knelt behind the fallen tree, to make his aim sure, he descried a
queer object going through the limbs of a large oak, and did not
identify it, until it lodged fast, as his friend Billy Wiggins.

Jack had no more idea of the fatal point at which to aim his weapon
than you have, but knowing that he must do something, and, with a dread
that the elephant after all, might succeed in climbing the oak and
getting at his friend, he let fly.

Gordon Cumming himself could not have done better. The tiny bullet
bored its way into the vast bulk, just back of the fore leg and went
directly through the heart. The huge brute, as if conscious that he
was mortally hurt, swung part way round, so as to face the point whence
the shot had come. Catching sight of the kneeling youngster, with the
muzzle of his rifle still smoking, he plunged toward him. He took a
couple of steps, swayed to one side, moved uncertainly forward again,
then stopped, tried to steady himself, and finally went over sideways,
like a mountain, crashing the saplings and undergrowth near him, and
snapping one of his magnificent tusks into splinters. He was dead.

When the boys fully comprehended what had taken place, they were not a
little alarmed and puzzled, and started home, wondering whether their
game was a descendant of the creatures that used to inhabit that
section, or whether he was a visitor to these parts. The