e animals had used their tusks as crowbars,
inserting them under the roots to loosen their hold of the earth, and it
was equally clear that, like other and higher creatures, they sometimes
attempted what was beyond their strength, for some of the larger trees
had resisted their utmost efforts.

As these signs multiplied the hunters proceeded with increased vigilance
and caution, each exhibiting the peculiarity of his character, more or
less, by his look and actions. The Mullers, Van Dyk, Rennie, Hans, and
other experienced men, rode along, calmly watchful, yet not so much
absorbed as to prevent a humorous glance and a smile at the conduct of
their less experienced comrades. Considine and Rivers showed that their
spirits were deeply stirred, by the flash of their ever-roving eyes, the
tight compression of their lips, the flush on their brows, and the
position of readiness in which they carried their guns--elephant-guns,
by the way, lent them by their Dutch friends for the occasion. Sandy
Black rode with a cool, sober, sedate air, looking interested and
attentive, but with that peculiar twinkle of the eyes and slightly
sarcastic droop at the corners of the mouth which is often
characteristic of the sceptical Scotsman. On the other hand, Jerry
Goldboy went along blazing with excitement, while every now and then he
uttered a suppressed exclamation, and clapped the blunderbuss to his
shoulder when anything moved, or seemed to move, in the jungle.

Jerry had flatly refused to exchange his artillery for any other weapon,
and having learned that small shot was useless against elephants, he had
charged it with five or six large pebbles--such as David might have used
in the slaying of Goliath. Mixed with these was a sprinkling of large
nails, and one or two odd buttons. He was a source of constant and
justifiable alarm to his friends, who usually compelled him either to
ride in front, with the blunderbuss pointing forward, or in the rear,
with its muzzle pointing backward.

"There go your friends at last, Jerry," said Van Dyk, curling his black
moustache, with a smile, as the party emerged from a woody defile into a
wide valley.

"What? where? eh! in which direction? point 'em out quick!" cried Jerry,
cocking the blunderbuss violently and wheeling his steed round with such
force that his haunch hit Sandy Black's leg pretty severely.

"Hoot, ye loupin' eedyit!" growled the Scot, somewhat nettled.

Jerry subdued himself