The Eagle Cliff by R. M. Ballantyne (good books to read for women .TXT) 📖

such an extent that the Government had been obliged to pass an Elephant Preservation Act for their protection, and the Act worked so well that the elephants multiplied very fast. They roamed at will through the forests, and frequently, leaving these, made raids upon the cultivated lands, to the great damage of property and danger of human life from the ‘rogues,’ as old, solitary elephants which have been driven from the herds, are called. These ‘rogues’ are extremely ill-natured and dangerous, so it was found necessary to take steps to kill some of them, and thin the herds by capturing some of the females, which might be tamed and made useful.

“For this purpose of hunting and catching elephants a hunt upon a truly magnificent scale was instituted. Now, as it is very difficult to kill such huge creatures, and still more difficult to catch them, men are obliged to call to their aid tame elephants, which are trained for the purpose of what is called Khedda hunting. But I don’t mean to tell you either about the killing or catching just now. I shall rather relate an extraordinary and thrilling incident that occurred before the hunt had properly begun.

“Great men from all parts of the country assembled at this hunt, some of them bringing troops of tame elephants and followers with them. There were governors and rajahs, and private secretaries, with some of their wives, military officers, forest officers, commissioners, collectors, superintendents, magistrates, surgeons, medical officers, and even clergymen, besides a host of smaller fry and servants. It was a regular army! The Maharajah of Bulrampore sent sixty-five catching elephants, and five koonkies or fighting elephants, among which was a famous warrior named Chand Moorut. Along with these came a body of men trained to that special work. A good contingent also came from Rampore. The Rajah of Khyrigarh came in person with thirteen elephants and a noted fighting animal, named Berchir Bahadur; other elephants were collected from the rajahs and native gentlemen around. Among the koonkies, or gladiators, were two tremendous fellows, both as to colossal size and courage, named respectively Raj Mungul and Isri Pershad.

“But far before them all in towering height and stupendous weight and unconquerable courage, as well as warlike tendency, was the mighty Chand Moorut, whom I first mentioned. This grand, slow-moving, sedate hero of a hundred fights, was a sort of elephantine bull-dog; a concentrated earthquake; an animal thunder-bolt; a suppressed volcano. Nothing in the forests had yet been found which could stand before his onset. And when we saw him stalk solemnly into camp with his mahowt, or guide, looking like a small monkey on his great neck, and remembered his fame as a fighter and his eager thirst at all times for battle, we felt that the keystone had been put to the arch of our arrangements.

“This great mixed multitude was put under the direction of a Conservator of Forests, a man celebrated for his exploits and daring adventures in the field, and it was as a friend of his that I joined the hunt with my man, Pat Quin there.”

“Troth, sor, an’ av it wasn’t for Chand Moorut (blissin’s on his great sowl, av he has wan, an’ on his body av he hasn’t) your man Pat Quin would have been left there as flat as a pancake. Excuse me, sor, for spakin’, but me feelin’s overcomed me.”

“No doubt, Quin, you had a narrow escape; I’ll come to that soon. Well, the spot at last chosen for pitching the camp was a splendid one, facing northward, where we had an extensive view of the great forests that stretched to the base of the irregular and rugged Sawalick hills. Behind these rose the mighty Himalayas themselves, their grand peaks seeming to push up into the very heavens, where the sun shone with dazzling brilliancy on their everlasting snows. The camp covered an immense piece of ground, which was partly open and partly dotted with clumps of trees. It was so large that the tents, etcetera, were arranged in streets, and our Director pitched his tent in the very centre of it, with all the tame elephants and their attendants around him.

“You may easily fancy that it was a noisy camp, with so many hundreds of men and animals around, full of excitement, more or less, about the coming fight; for we had a number of men, called trackers, out in the woods, who had brought in news that a herd of wild elephants had just been discovered in the Saharanpur and Dun forests, on the banks of the Ganges.

“The glens in these forests were known to be well suited for hunting purposes, so our hopes and expectations were raised to a high pitch. Towards evening we had got pretty well settled down, when a rumour got about the camp that one of the Khedda elephants had killed a man, and that it was highly probable he would run amuck to the great danger of every one. It happened thus:—

“A big tusker, named Mowla Buksh, was being taken by his mahowt to drink and bathe, according to custom, when it was observed that the elephant seemed to be out of temper. Just then one of the fodder-cutters chanced to pass by.

“‘Keep out of his way,’ cried the mahowt, in a warning tone. ‘There’s something wrong with him to-day. I won’t bathe him, I think.’

“‘Oh! he knows me well, and won’t harm me,’ returned the cutter.

“The words were scarcely out of the man’s mouth, when the brute rushed at him, knocked him down, gored him with his tusks, and kicked him after the fashion of enraged elephants. Of course the poor man was instantly killed. When this deed was done, Mowlah Buksh seemed to feel that, having lost his character, he might as well go on in his course of mischief. He became wild with fury, and kept throwing his head back in a vain endeavour to seize his mahowt with his trunk and kill him also. In this effort he failed. The mahowt, though old, was active and strong. He managed to hold on and sit so far back on the elephant’s hind quarters as to be just out of reach. Luckily the brute did not think of shaking him off.

“Had he attempted that, he would soon have succeeded. The poor man would have fallen to the ground and been killed. Finding that he could not accomplish his purpose, the infuriated animal rushed towards the camp, where the khedda or hunting elephants were, and where, as I have said, our Director had pitched his tent. My own tent was close beside his.

“The first I heard of what was going on was from Quin, who came running into my tent, where I was sitting quietly at the time, cleaning my rifle. Quin’s eyes were starting out of his head, and there was, I assure you, nothing of the pleasant smile that rests on his face at this moment!

“‘Och, sor!’ gasped Quin, ‘Bowla Muk—no—Mowla Buksh—has gone mad entoirely!’

“I jumped up quickly, you may believe, for I didn’t often see that look on Quin’s face, and when I did, I knew well that something very serious was in the wind.

“‘Where away is he?’ I asked.

“‘Sorrow wan o’ me knows, sor,’ said Quin.

“Rushing out with no very fixed purpose in view, I soon found that the shouting in the camp was a sufficient guide to the spot where the mischief was going on. In a few minutes I came on a cordon of musketeers who had been hastily drawn up, so as to prevent Mowla Buksh from getting at the other elephants, for if he had succeeded in doing so, he would certainly have gone knocking about the smaller ones, perhaps maiming them, and killing every man who might chance to come in his path. On the other hand, if the musketeers managed to turn him, there was the danger of his making for the main camp, and killing every one he could lay hold of in that direction.

“Of course the thought of turning out the big fighting elephants to master him occurred to every one; but even here there would be risk, for these gladiators would not rest content without knocking Mowla Buksh off his legs, in which case the mahowt would assuredly be killed. Besides, our Director chanced to be in the forest at the time, and no one else seemed ready to take the responsibility of ordering them out.

“When I came up to the musketeers, I saw the elephant rushing wildly about, trying to find a way through them, with the old mahowt sticking to his back like a burr.

“The Bulrampore men shouted to him to try and get the elephant to go to his standing-place, saying that if he could persuade him to sit down they would tie his legs up. After the brute had exhausted itself somewhat by rushing about, the mahowt did succeed in recovering control so far as to persuade him to move to his standing-place, which was not far distant, and to our great relief he sat down in the usual way. The Bulrampore men were as good as their word. Smart hands every one, they ran up with ropes and commenced tying up his hind legs. Being experts at the work, they manipulated the thick ropes with amazing rapidity, and had the panting animal almost secured when he partially recovered, and began to understand what was being done to him. He started up indignantly, just before the knots were properly fastened, and struck out right and left with his trunk, scattering the men in all directions.

“Although the ropes had not been quite secured, they were sufficiently fast to impede his movements. He therefore took to venting his rage on the surrounding trees, and, really, until that day, I had not realised the prodigious strength of this king of beasts. He knocked and smashed them down right and left with the greatest possible ease, although, I do assure you, some of them were fully eight inches in diameter. All this time the old mahowt was clinging to his back, not daring to slip off.

“The men now began to lay large rope-nooses about here and there, in the hope that he would accidentally put a foot into one of them. But Mowla Buksh was much too knowing to be caught in this way. Whenever he came across one of these nooses, he took it up with his trunk and tossed it contemptuously aside. Gradually he worked his way up to a cluster of trees near the tent in which our Director’s wife had been seated all the time—with what feelings I will not pretend to guess. In this cluster he spent two hours, smashing down trees all the time, and occasionally, by way of variety, trying to lay hold of the poor mahowt, who was gradually becoming exhausted through terror and the exertion of holding on.

“Strange to say, now and then the man appeared to regain control over the beast, though only for a few seconds. During one of these intervals he even succeeded in making Mowla Buksh partially sit down.

“‘Och! now or niver! Off wid ye!’ yelled a splitting voice close to my ear! I need not tell you whose voice that was, or that its owner was skipping about like a gorilla, almost as mad as the elephant!”

“Ah! sor,” interrupted Quin, “don’t ye remimber how yourself was—but I’ll have mercy on ye! Go on, sor.”

“Well, I confess,” resumed Jackman, “that I was a little excited. However, the Bulrampore men echoed Quin’s advice in eagerly expressed Hindustani. The mahowt took it, slipped to the ground, and ran for his life! Fortunately the excited Mowla either did not perceive or did not care. He rose up and recommenced his work of destruction.

“All this time he had been freeing himself from the ropes with which he was imperfectly bound. At last he detached them entirely, and began to make furious rushes