Elephant shooting seemed at first, to Frank and Fred at least, very cruel and unnecessary sport. Elephants are so sagacious and wise.
“Just think, for instance,” said Frank, “of shooting a noble beast like poor old Jowser!”
“Ah, but,” Lyell explained, “it isn’t every elephant you’ll find equal to Jowser. Moondah there will tell you of the immense destruction elephants cause to the maize and rice crops.”
“Yes, yes, dat is so,” said Moondah; “if they are not kill, and plenty kill too, they soon conquer all de country worse dan de Breetish.”
Well, apart from the apparent cruelty of killing the elephant, which Sir Samuel Baker calls the “lord of all created animals,” there is no sport in the world so exciting and dangerous as this, and none that requires greater hardihood or daring. No wonder then that our heroes spent over a month at it, meeting of course with many other wild adventures, but seeking none other. Moondah it was who organised for them their army of beaters and trackers, and the scenery through which these men led them, was oftentimes grand and beautiful in the extreme; not that they had much time during the chase to admire the loveliness of nature, it was while riding homewards to their temporary camp in the cool of the evening, or stretched beneath the trees when dinner was over, that they could thoroughly enjoy quietly gazing on all things around them. This was indeed the dolce far niente.
Our heroes one day had an opportunity of witnessing a curious encounter, between an elephant and a tiger. They themselves were within fifty yards of the herd when it took place, and under cover; the elephants were quietly browsing on the plain, and evidently not suspecting that danger lurked on either hand. One young calf had strayed some little distance from the parent.
“So capital a chance as this,” said a tiger to himself, “is seldom to be found; I would be a fool to miss it.”
There was a scream from an elephant in the rear, and a wild rush from one in the van. The tiger seemed quite unable to check his speed in time, and next moment he was crushed to atoms under the terrible feet of the furious tusker. There was a crash and a scream, and a cloud of dust. Then the elephant could be seen gathering himself up from where he had literally fallen upon his foe.
Fred Freeman used to chaff Chisholm O’Grahame about the immensity of his rifle.