Its head and body have already been described; its short, dumpy legs very much resembled those of an elephant, while, barring the trunk and tusks, its head was not very dissimilar. It had the same immense palm-leaf like ears; but its mouth looked like that of an alligator—so that its cannibal propensities did not seem so unlikely after all.
It moved heavily and somewhat awkwardly, but its appearance was that of an animal of prodigious strength, much the superior of the famed grizzly bear, and a creature to be shunned in a hand-to-hand encounter.
The idea that would naturally suggest itself upon a glance at this strange creature, would be that it was a cross, combining in itself the characteristics of several animals; but men who had spent years in the West, and understood its native inhabitants thoroughly, declared that such could not be the case. Its build and appearance was unlike any thing that had ever been seen in these parts. It was sin generis, and unlike any thing else.
Some believed that it belonged to an extinct race; probably to the era of the mastodon, and other monsters whose remains are found in the earth; that by some strange providence, it had escaped the destruction of its kind, and still wandered over the world, like a lost sheep, looking in vain for its fold—the last and the least of its race.
But this was a fantastic theory—so utterly impossible, that it deserves no more than simple reference here.
There certainly were some established facts regarding this monster which are utterly unaccountable. It had been fired at again and again, by the most skillful hunters, and yet never gave the slightest evidence of being hurt. Bullets that would have bored their way through the hide of the rhinoceros, and torn on through bone and muscle to the seat of life, seemed to glance aside, as harmless as the tiny hailstones.
There was many a man, certainly, who had tried his weapon upon it, and it still walked the earth to defy their skill and efforts. There were hunters who said they had seen it bite a man in two at one mouthful—just as the alligator or shark serve the swimmer that ventures into their domain.
But while we have drifted into this digression, the situation of Teddy O’Doherty has become more and more critical. He sat with his gun in hand, with his eyes fixed upon the brute, waiting for the opportunity to fire.
He had determined that if it headed straight toward him, he would be polite enough to step aside, for that certainly was not the antagonist to engage in a close fight; but it did not swerve an inch from its path.