"Yes, Sul really does like hunting, Hal," said Phra.
"And it is not only elephants that like hunting," continued Sree. "See how the horses and dogs love the hunting in India, and the horses the pig-sticking. I have seen them enjoy it as much as the Sahibs. They never want the spur, but go wonderfully fast, as soon as they see a fierce, wild boar. Ah, Sahib, animals are wiser than we think, and love us back again if we love them. Old Sul here loves me better than he does his driver; but I am afraid of him. He loves me too well."
"That sounds funny, Sree," said Harry. "What do you mean?"
"He likes to show me how much he loves me by rubbing up against me; and if he tries to do that when he has me by a tree or one of the palace walls, I am obliged to be quick and get under him; he is so big and heavy. But here is your gun."
Meanwhile the object of these remarks had been forcing his way through the grass and bushes, winking his little red eyes as if enjoying the conversation, and flapping his great ears, his absurdly small tail whisking about and making dashes at troublesome flies, while his great trunk seemed to possess an independent existence, twining and waving, swaying this way and that, and never for a moment still.
But all the while the great, sensible creature was intent upon the object in hand, pushing steadily forward through the dense growth, and starting numberless occupiers of the long grass—snakes, lizards, rats, and mice, scurrying away to avoid the pillar-like legs which invaded their home.
"Don't seem as if we are going to have much sport," said Harry at last, "and it's precious hot out here."
The words had hardly passed his lips when Sul uttered a deep grunt and stood fast, for he had startled a small deer from its lair, the graceful creature making a sudden bound into sight close to the elephant's feet, and then going right forward in a succession of leaps, so that its course hindered the boys from firing until it had gone forty yards, when both guns rang out sharply, Sul remaining firm as a rock.
"Hit!" cried Sree, for the deer fell heavily, struggled in the thick growth for a few moments, then gained its feet and made another bound into sight—a bound which paralysed the arms of the two lads and made them hold their breath, for as the deer made what was veritably its death leap, something of a tawny yellow and brown mingled made a tremendous bound on to it, bringing it down among the bushes with a dull, crashing sound, and then all was still.