a loud plash, his vast
body subsided into the water, sending great waves to every corner of the
lake.

The hunters uncocked their guns, and, springing from their ambush,
rushed forward to the bank. They saw at a glance that the elephant was
dead. They saw the wound upon his side,--the hole made by the horn of
the rhinoceros. It was not very large, but the terrible weapon had
penetrated far into his body, into his very vitals. No wonder, then, at
the result it had produced--the death of the mightiest of quadrupeds.

As soon as it became known that the elephant was dead, everybody was
seen rushing forward to the spot. Little Truey and Jan were called from
their hiding-place--for they had both been hidden in the wagon--and
Totty, too, went down with the rest. Swartboy was one of the first upon
the spot, carrying an axe and a large knife--for Swartboy had designs
upon the carcass--while Hans and Hendrik both threw off their jackets to
assist in the butchering operations.

And what during this time was Von Bloom about? Ha! That is a more
important question than you think for. That was an important hour--the
hour of a great crisis in the life of the field-cornet.

He was standing with folded arms on the bank of the lake, directly over
the spot where the elephant had fallen. He appeared to be wrapt in
silent meditation, his eyes bent upon the huge carcass of the animal.
No, not on the carcass. A close observer would have perceived that his
eyes did not wander over that mountain of thick skin and flesh, but were
resting upon a particular spot.

Was it the wound in the animal's side? And was Von Bloom meditating how
the thrust had caused the death of such a huge creature?

Neither one nor the other. His thoughts were upon a very different
theme from either.

The elephant had fallen so that his head was clear of the water, and
rested upon a little bank of sand; along which, his soft and limber
trunk lay extended to its full length. Curving like a pair of gigantic
scimitars from its base, were the yellow enamelled tusks; those ivory
arms that for years,--ay centuries, perhaps,--had served him to root up
the trees of the forest, and rout his antagonists in many a dread
encounter. Precious and beautiful trophies were they, but alas! their
world-wide fame had cost no less than life to many thousands of his
race.

Shining in all their magnificence lay these mated crescents, gently
curved and softly rounded.