The noise made by an elephant in its angry rush is indescribable; the earth shakes and trembles beneath the tread of its huge feet. One might almost imagine that the ground was about to open and display to view some subterranean volcano, or that thunder was rumbling in the distance. Every obstacle in the way of this impetuous rush is broken, crushed, torn up by the roots; the sturdiest plants are destroyed, the thickets disappear, inequalities become smooth, enormous trees are sometimes uprooted, and the grain fields of a whole district ravaged.
The two elephants, large and small, passed close to the Europeans without paying any attention to them, or even appearing to see them. They doggedly followed the course they had marked out for themselves, straight against the invisible foe, whose incautious shot had announced his presence and betrayed his hiding-place.
All the negroes of the escort set off at full gallop, but the Dinka hunter, who had most need to flee, had dismounted, and his horse, alarmed by the shot, had broken loose and was careering over the plain. The unfortunate black, thrown upon his own resources, made off with surprising celerity, but, in spite of all his efforts, he was speedily overtaken. The elephant seized him with her trunk, raised him in the air, and hurled him to the ground with the evident intention of trampling him to death. It very seldom happens, indeed, that the animal we are discussing tramples down his enemy at the first onset. He prefers to make use of his trunk, as we do of our arms, and knocks down his antagonist before he proceeds to make an end of him.
A Nubian, or any other negro would have fallen down, half fainting and almost dead with fright, at the very feet of the huge assailant. But the Dinkas, whose courage we have already mentioned, understand the art of keeping cool under adverse circumstances. The man who, after having been so roughly lifted up from earth, had fallen on the ground once more, got up quickly and ran for refuge under the belly of the baby elephant. The mother, rather taken aback by this novel mode of procedure, hesitated for a moment, and then very leisurely seized her prisoner once more, keeping her eyes fixed all the while very affectionately on her offspring.
The Dinka executed his little manoeuvre a second time, and again he was removed, but very quietly.
But now the elephant, whose anger appeared to have subsided, became furious again, and, after lifting the Dinka up again with her trunk, she swung him to and fro violently in order to stun him and render him incapable of further flight.
Another moment, and the poor wretch would have been lost.
Suddenly, a shot was fired, and the baby elephant fell.
It was M. Périères who did the deed. Finding it impossible to fire at the female, without running the risk of killing the man whom she held straight in front of her, and thinking, justly, that if he merely wounded her she would only become still more furious and would at once despatch her victim, he, in sheer despair, fired at the baby to draw off the attention of its mother.
The stratagem succeeded. In terror and despair the unhappy brute, instead of crushing the negro beneath her feet, left him to run to the assistance of her wounded offspring. She bent down to it, went on her knees, and with her trunk searched along its back and neck for the wound. Having found it she expelled water from her stomach and bathed the place. Then, as if she wanted to stop the flow of blood and close the aperture made by the bullet, she clung to her little one, holding it close to her, trying to heal its flesh with her own. At the same time she uttered low plaintive moans, almost human in sound, and from her eyes, so expressive, though so small, one might have supposed tears to be falling.