frequent. The speed and activity of a man, although considerable upon a
smooth surface, is as nothing upon rough, stumpy grass wilds, where even
walking is laborious. What is comparatively level to an elephant's
foot is as a ploughed field to that of a man. This renders escape from
pursuit next to impossible, unless some welcome tree should be near,
round which the hunter could dodge, and even then he stands but a poor
chance, unless assistance is at hand. I have never seen anyone who could
run at full speed in rough ground without falling, if pursued. Large
stones, tufts of rank grass, holes, fallen boughs, gullies, are all
impediments to rapid locomotion when the pursued is forced to be
constantly looking back to watch the progress of his foe, and to be the
judge of his own race.

There is a great art in running away. It requires the perfection of
coolness and presence of mind, without which a man is most likely to run
into the very danger that he is trying to avoid. This was the cause
of Major Haddock's death in Ceylon some years ago. He had attacked a
'rogue,' and, being immediately charged, he failed to stop him, although
he gave him both barrels. Being forced to run, he went off at full
speed, and turning quickly round a tree, he hoped the elephant would
pass him. Unfortunately, he did not look behind him before he turned,
and the elephant passed round the opposite side of the tree, and, of
course, met him face to face. He was instantly trampled to death.

Mr. Wallet was also killed by a rogue elephant; this animal was shot a
few days afterwards, in a spirited contest, by Captain Galway and
Ensign Scroggs, both of whom were very nearly caught in the encounter.
A gentleman of the name of Keane was added to the list of victims a
few years ago. He had fired without effect, and was almost immediately
over-taken by the elephant and crushed to death. The most extraordinary
tale that I have ever heard of rogue elephants in Ceylon was told me by
the Rhatamahatmeya of Doolana, who was present at the scene when a lad.
I do not profess to credit it entirely; but I will give it in his own
words, and, to avoid the onus of an improbable story, I will entitle it
the 'Rhatamahatmeya's Tale.' In justice to him, I must acknowledge that
his account was corroborated by all the old men of the village.

THE RHATAMAHATMEYA'S TALE.

'There was a notorious rogue elephant at Doolana about thirty years
ago, whose ferocity was so extreme