Peering above the grass and brush which concealed him, Gonch could see dimly and afar between trees, the form of a great beast smashing its way through the forest. His blood chilled at the sight and then became ice as he caught a momentary glimpse of a man’s face high above the trunk and tusks of a gigantic elephant. He turned to the lad beside him. Kutnar had not yet seen, nor must he see. Crash! the flat blade of the Muskman’s flint-ax descended upon the boy’s skull. Kutnar stiffened and lay as still as a log.
The noise in the forest had by this time become a cyclonic fury of breaking tree trunks and snapping branches. A voice which sounded in Gonch’s ears like that of an avenging fiend, jabbered and shouted hideously in a language he could not understand. He raised his head just high enough to see as the hurricane swept past him, a huge elephant tearing along with great swinging strides and using his head as a battering-ram, while a man of herculean build sitting astride his neck and clinging tightly to avoid being swept from his seat by the tossing branches, urged the beast forward as with whip and spur. It was Pic and the Mammoth. Gonch felt so terrified at sight of them that he burrowed his face in the dirt and cowered there, wishing he had never been born.
As the Mammoth reached the river bank, he checked his onward rush so abruptly that had not his rider been holding on tightly he would have been pitched over the beast’s head. At a shout from Pic, Hairi ransacked the ground carefully with his trunk-tip. Now that they were near the water, some trickery was to be expected. However, the Mammoth found the trail fresh and warm. It led straight to the river, and so he splashed in.
Gonch waited until he heard the beast settling into deep water; then raised himself on his elbows and watched. The Mammoth climbed the opposite bank and began a careful search for the trail. Pic, who had been noting his steed’s every motion, pointed to the bank downstream. Evidently he suspected that the Muskman was once more essaying the old water trick. He shouted a command, the Mammoth wheeled, and the two of them disappeared.
Gonch turned his attention to the boy, who lay as one dead. He raised him by the shoulders and turned him over upon his back. The boy’s eyes were closed. Blood trickled from his nose and mouth; but he still lived. Gradually his breathing grew stronger and he opened his eyes. He saw his good friend bending over him.
“Where am I?” he asked. “My head—the pain,” and the Muskman answered softly. “With your good Gonch, who drove away the beast that tried to kill you.”
“The beast?”
“Yes, a lion, the largest I have ever seen. He leaped through the trees and struck you down. Would that I had received the blow instead of you; but I did the best I could. The beast attacked me, and I drove it away.”