“Yes,” Bob reassured him. “But, say, that was a whale of a smash-up, wasn’t it?”
“The elephant appears to be mortally wounded,” Mr. Lewis said, with a shake of his head. “It seems only humane to put it out of its misery.”
He unstrapped his rifle and took aim at the animal’s heart. A moment later he pulled the trigger.
The naturalist never fired a more accurate shot. With a horrible groan, the great beast collapsed into a heap—dead. The high-velocity bullet, following its previous injury, finished it instantly.
Long before, the engineer and fireman of the locomotive had joined the explorers and were viewing the scene with a terrible awe.
“We’re in a fine mess,” groaned Bob, directing his gaze at the dead elephant.
“Mess is right, fellow,” came from the engineer. “It’s up to me now to get word back to Mombasa to send out a relief train. We’re in luck, too. There’s a station only a short distance up the track.”
He left the others and hurried ahead, intent upon telegraphing as soon as possible.
In less than an hour he was back, and announced that another train would arrive from Nairobi, a city less than sixty miles away. Relief was expected inside of three hours.
“While we’re waiting,” said Bob, speaking to his chum, “suppose we take a short jaunt into the surrounding country. We ought to see plenty of interest.”