"I have put a curse on him," I said. "He will be dead within twenty-four hours."
At this he burst into tears, begging me to remove the curse. He said that he was a poor man and that the elephant's death would ruin him. Finally we reached a compromise. He would pay me an extra $500, and I would arrange transportation to India for the elephant. Then, if the sale proved profitable, he was to return to Singapore and pay me an additional $500. He swore by Allah and the Prophet that he would keep his word. So I removed the curse and took his money and he departed happily. A month later he returned and paid me the $500. He had sold the elephant to the Maharaja of Mysore for 10,000 rupees. The Arab later bought four large elephants from me.
During my nineteen years in the Malay Archipelago I captured hundreds of elephants, but none of the herds was so large as my first catch. And, though I always looked carefully at the elephant's feet before I sold him, never again did I bag one with twenty toes.
Of all the animals I have handled in my experience as a collector, I prefer elephants. They are interesting and amusing beasts, and, once broken, they become hard-working and affectionate. They never show any inclination to go back to the jungle, even when used for the purposes of running wild elephants. In Siam all the driving of herds into the traps is done on female elephants, and their presence calms the herd. I have seen the tame elephants press in upon a wild elephant, holding him while he docilely allowed himself to be hobbled.
The hunts in Siam are for tuskers, and the females are for the most part allowed to run free again to breed. The tuskers are used in the teak forests for handling logs. The females bear young about every three years until they reach an age of from seventy to seventy-five years. The period of carrying varies from eighteen months in the case of a female baby to twenty-one months in the case of a male. A baby elephant, as I have already written, weighs approximately two hundred pounds at birth and stands thirty-six inches high. It suckles from six to nine months. The breasts of the female are located just back of the fore legs, and the baby runs its trunk up along its mother's side while nursing. Its next food is fruit and the tenderest bamboo shoots. It is very fond of sugar. It grows at the rate of one inch a month up to its third year and attains its full growth, but not maturity, at about twenty-five. The age of an elephant is told largely by the ears; an old animal has ragged ears and sunken cheeks. The height of an elephant is almost exactly twice the distance around its foot.
A herd of elephants is invariably led by the females, perhaps because they are the more alert to catch the least sign of danger. If the herd is put to flight, the males take the lead, breaking through the jungle and making a trail for the females and young. An elephant never goes around things; he either pushes them to one side or goes straight through. He is very sure-footed and, on anything that looks doubtful, he will never step without first putting out a foot and trying it. For that reason, it requires some skill to build a pit-trap that will not attract attention. A pit-trap is practically useless, however, because the elephant is invariably injured in the fall; it allows the capture of the baby, in the case of females, but at the cost of the good, full-grown animal. Wild elephants, grazing in a herd, travel rapidly if they are frightened, but usually they saunter along, sleeping during the day and feeding at night. Their food consists chiefly of grasses, bamboo shoots, cocoanuts and the bark of some trees. Lone elephants and outcasts from the herd are dangerous animals and should be killed.
There comes a period, known as "must," when even the most reliable elephant becomes a dangerous animal. Like the Malay he "sees red" and runs amok. A good elephant keeper can detect the madness several days before it reaches the dangerous stage, and by securing the animal with hobbles, can prevent trouble. In the cheeks of the elephant are two small holes, called "errors," and from these holes oozes a slight secretion. One of the keeper's duties each day is to examine the holes and run a piece of straw into them. If there is an odor of musk about the straw when he pulls it out, it is an indication that the "must" period is coming. Sometimes the keeper fails to make this test, and the elephant runs amok, killing people and leaving a trail of wreckage behind him.
On one of my visits to Sydney with a consignment of animals for the Zoölogical Gardens, I found the entire crew of elephant keepers busy with the task of trying to control an animal that was in "must." His keeper had failed to make the test, and the elephant had suddenly gone mad. Fortunately he was in his stall at the time. When I arrived, he had wrecked the stall, and the keepers were afraid that he might get loose. Another stall had been arranged, but they could figure out no way of changing him to it. The men were thoroughly frightened and absolutely refused to risk hobbling him. The director of the Gardens offered me £100 if I would do it, and, since I had Ali and several of my own men with me, I agreed to try.
With elephant hooks strapped to our wrists, we entered the stall. The elephant stood looking at us, apparently wondering which one he should knock down first. I told Ali to get behind him while I approached from the front.
I went up to him sideways, speaking to him and offering him food. He waited quietly until I was near enough; then, before I could duck, he hit me with his trunk. I felt myself spinning so rapidly that the elephant, my men and the stall were all a blur; and I came up against the wall with a thud. Fortunately, there was a gutter running along the wall, and I dropped into it just as the elephant lunged forward at me. His big head hit the wall and the floor but couldn't get at me. He would not risk his trunk, because he realized that I would jab him with the hook.