playmate,
exhibited great affection for its dam; it went willingly with its captor
as far as the tree to which she was fastened, and in passing her
stretched out its trunk and tried to rejoin her; but finding itself
forced along, it caught at every twig and branch within its reach, and
screamed with grief and disappointment.
These two little creatures were the most vociferous of the whole herd,
their shouts were incessant, they struggled to attack every one within
reach; and as their bodies were more lithe and pliant than those of
greater growth, their contortions were quite wonderful. The most amusing
thing was, that in the midst of all their agony and affliction, the
little fellows seized on every article of food that was thrown to them,
and ate and roared simultaneously.
Amongst the last of the elephants noosed was the rogue. Though far more
savage than the others, he joined in none of their charges and assaults
on the fences, as they uniformly drove him off and would not permit him
to enter their circle. When dragged past another of his companions in
misfortune, who was lying exhausted on the ground, he flew upon him and
attempted to fasten his teeth in his head; this was the only instance of
viciousness which occurred during the progress of the corral. When tied
up and overpowered, he was at first noisy and violent, but soon lay down
peacefully, a sign, according to the hunters, that his death was at
hand. Their prognostication was correct; he continued for about twelve
hours to cover himself with dust like the others, and to moisten it with
water from his trunk; but at length he lay exhausted, and died so
calmly, that having been moving but a few moment before, his death was
only perceived by the myriads of black flies by which his body was
almost instantly covered, although not one was visible a moment
before.[1] The Rodiyas were called in to loose the ropes that bound him,
from the tree, and two tame elephants being harnessed to the dead body,
it was dragged to a distance without the corral.
[Footnote 1: The surprising faculty of vultures for discovering carrion,
has been a subject of much speculation, as to whether it be dependent on
their power of sight or of scent. It is not, however, more mysterious
than the unerring certainty and rapidity with which some of the minor
animals, and more especially insects, in warm climates congregate around
the offal on which they feed. Circumstanced as they are, they mu
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