Fortunately, the race started near the entrance, and the panic-stricken people were now scrambling recklessly, some through the wide-open gates, while others clambered up for the highest seats where they huddled together and clung to one another frantically.
On the maddened animals came, with their mouths wide open and their swinging trunks sprinkling capsicum, copiously mixed with saliva, over everything.
They were in a compact mass, moving with all the irresistible velocity of an avalanche, and growing more and more terrified at their own freedom.
Great rivers of brine poured from their bulging eyes, while their mouths drooled as if they were on fire.
The unerring instinct which distinguishes their descendants caused these forest monsters to fall into line one behind the other, as they made for the open air.
Men and animals fled before them in every direction as they thundered down the valley, stampeding everything for miles around. Their trumpetings could be heard long after they were out of sight, and it was easy to track them—for they beat down a solid pathway fully a foot below the surface.
Cezardis and the keepers mounted and hastened after them. After an hour’s hard riding, they were found, standing in the river industriously spouting water over their unsubmerged backs.
“The heat and excitement has been too much for them,” Cezardis said, making an ineffectual attempt to stay the panic. “There is nothing to fear. It is only their idea of a frolic.”
To the keepers he said, “What under the sun didst thou give the brutes?”
“A gourdful of capsicum,” answered one of them. “We knew thou wert in the habit of slipping a pepper-pod in their mouths when thou wouldst have them appear lively. And,” he naïvely continued, “we knew they would be thirsty in the heat and crowd.”