"Yes, we're all right," said Royce. "Is that my rifle?"
"All gone smash, sah," returned John, lifting the rifle which he had picked up from the ground. "Massa Chally's all right, sah."
The lock and barrel of Royce's rifle had been smashed beyond repair by the ponderous hoofs. Challis's was unbroken.
"Tibu, sah—where he go?" asked John, as they marched down to their camping place.
"Who's Tibu?"
John explained that when the startling sounds came from the forest, Tibu, one of the released negroes, had recognised them at once as made by stampeding elephants, and had run up the cliff to warn the Englishmen.
"Of course; I saw him just before we ran," said Challis. "Let us turn back and look for him."
But though they spent some time in searching the cliff above and below, they found no trace of Tibu. He was never seen again. It could only be surmised that, like the Englishmen, he had fled towards the edge of the cliff, but, less lucky than they, had fallen into the water directly beneath the elephants, and been crushed to death.
Only a few of the elephants had plunged into the lake. The majority had skirted it and disappeared into the woodland beyond.