ecious moments in idle reflection, but shouting
to the young sahibs, and signalling them to follow his example, he
struck off towards the tree with all the speed that lay in his legs; and
not till he had got up to the third or fourth tier of branches did he
look behind him, to see whether his advice had been taken.

The young sahibs had adopted his suggestion with alacrity, without
staying a moment to question its propriety; and both were up the tree
almost as soon as the shikaree himself.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

AN IMPLACABLE BESIEGER.

Fritz had retreated with his masters as far as the bottom of the tree;
but possessing only canine claws, he was not a climber; and of course
could follow them no further. But if he could not ascend the tree, he
had no intention of remaining under it--when he saw no chance of
avoiding the vengeance of the elephant--and, without pausing for a
moment, he plunged into the water, and swam across the straits. Then
wading out on the the opposite bank, he scuttled off into a cover of
reeds which grew along the shore of the lake, and there concealed
himself.

This time the elephant paid no attention to the dog. It was upon the
hunters alone that its eyes were fixed; and towards them its vindictive
designs were now specially directed. It had been close upon their
heels, as they ran over the open ground, and distinctly saw them
ascending into the tree. Indeed, so near was it, that both Karl and
Caspar were once more obliged to let go their guns, in order that they
might have both hands free for climbing. Otherwise they might have been
too late to get out of reach, and the least delay on their part might
have been fatal to one or both.

Karl was the last to climb up; and just as he lifted his feet from a
branch to set them on one higher up, the rogue twisted his trunk around
the former, and snapped it in two, as if it had been only a slender
reed.

But Karl, with the others, was now beyond his reach; and all three
congratulated themselves on once more having escaped from a danger that
was nothing short of death itself.

If possible, the elephant was now more enraged than ever. It had not
only been a second time baulked in its vengeance, but had received three
fresh bullet-wounds; which, though mere scratches upon the skin of its
huge cranium, were sore enough to irritate it to an extreme degree.
Uttering its shrill, trumpet-like screech, it flourished its proboscis
high in the a