CHAPTER XXIV
JACK’S BAD FALL
Behind the big brute came a score of the animal men, armed with clubs, pitchforks, iron bars and elephant hooks. But Bill Henyon was not among them. The elephant trainer—the master of Ajax—had given that big brute his last command, for, as they ran, the men from the animal tent told how the elephant had seized Henyon in his trunk, and dashed him to the ground, maiming him so terribly that he was a cripple for life.
But now every man who could be spared from the circus grounds started to race after the fleeing elephant. Canvasmen, drivers, trainers, even the trapeze performers, joined in the hunt, and of course Jack, Sam, and several of the other clowns were there.
“If he runs toward town he’ll do a lot of damage, and maybe kill two or three people before his rage dies down,” said Sam.
“Can’t they catch him in time?” asked Jack.
“It’s a hard question. There, he’s heading for the creek. Maybe that’ll cool him off.”
The circus tents had been pitched near a small stream, and toward this the big brute was now headed, for, heavy as an elephant is, he can outrun a man for a short distance, and sometimes beat him in a long race.
Into the water plunged Ajax, filling his trunk with it and spraying it all about. He took up his position in the middle of the stream, as if to bid defiance to his pursuers.
“Go slow now,” cautioned Hank Servdon, who was the boss animal man. “I’ll keep him engaged in front, while some of you sneak up behind and shackle one leg with a long chain.”
It was a risky plan, but it worked. While Hank slowly approached Ajax from in front, wading out into the creek, with his elephant hook raised, ready to catch it in the sensitive trunk of the brute, other men approached through the water at the rear, holding in readiness heavy chains. Ajax concentrated all his attention on Hank, whom he doubtless hoped to treat as he had served poor Henyon.