The Mammoth and Rhinoceros began to feel cramped for space to maneuver their big bodies. No longer did they graze their way along. They appeared more interested in the gorge itself than the food it contained. Their attention became devoted to scenery entirely—to the steep, forbidding walls which hemmed them in; the rock-strewn heights above their heads and the narrow cleft in front.
As they approached this latter, all three instinctively slowed up; just why Pic could only imagine. What an ideal spot for—yes, for what? A wave of apprehension suddenly swept over him. No chill wind blew down the gorge; but his hands and feet were become quite cold. He stole a furtive glance at his two friends. Hairi was stamping his fore-feet, flapping his big ears and otherwise acting strangely. Wulli was turning his head from side to side, testing the air with deep, noisy sniffs.
“This place seems to be growing too small for us,” said Pic, trying to appear calm; “Hairi is so big, he may never get through that hole.” He grinned a sickly grin that flashed up and died down again before the words were out of his mouth.
“It smells queer too,—this place does,” was Wulli’s disquieting response. “I wish we were somewhere else. Don’t you smell anything?” he suddenly asked his giant partner.
Hairi raised his trunk and made a thorough examination. His nose-tip swept the heights on both sides and ahead of him, like the nozzle of a hose. He lowered it at last, looked at Wulli and nodded gravely. Both animals came to a sudden halt.
“Why do you stop?” Pic inquired in studied surprise. “We must go on.”
“Such strange odors,” the Mammoth replied. “The smell of men——”
“Men?” Pic felt as though ants were crawling up his back.
“Oomp! Yes—men,” Hairi replied. “How strange; I thought we had left them far behind.”
“There may be a few, hidden in a cave somewhere among the rocks,” said Pic with a forced smile. “Have no fear.”