All this was shouted from one elephant to the other, for the same order had been maintained as in coming. “No danger, is there?” said Ned. “Danger? Well, perhaps a little. Tiger might catch one of the men, as a cat does a mouse. You see how close they’ll all keep to the elephants as soon as we enter the jungle.”
“Oh, nonsense! No tiger would attack a party like this.”
“Wouldn’t he! You’ll see.”
“What?”
“Well no, I don’t mean that; only that if a tiger is hungry he’d attack anything.”
It seemed to be a long journey to the jungle track, and evening was growing very near, as once more the elephants plunged into the narrow dark tunnel, where the mud rarely grew dry in the huge footprints worn by the heavy animals into deep pits, each of which seemed like a trap, out of which the labouring beast had to drag its leg.
The change from the golden glow of the late afternoon to the gloom of the jungle path was again sudden, and it evoked the remark from Ned: “If it is like this now, what will it be when it’s dark?”
“Why dark?” cried Frank, laughing. “Oh, you needn’t mind. There’s no fear of the elephants taking the wrong turning, because there isn’t one. If the drivers keep them going, we shall be sure to get back home.”
Then the monotonous slush slush of the elephant’s tread began, mingled with the squeaking of the strong basket-work howdah, and an occasional snort from one of the great animals, as it found the task of extricating its legs harder than usual. For a time the Malays had kept up their low murmuring conversation, but this soon dropped off as the darkness increased, and they crept up close, as Frank had suggested, to the heads of the elephants, contriving so that one of the animals should form the rear-guard, and thus protect them from attack.
It was not long before the conversation between those on the two leading elephants dropped off, so that by the time it was quite dark the journey was being continued in almost absolute silence, as far as talking was concerned.