“Look over there and tell me what you see,” said Joe to his chum.
“Why—it’s a herd of elephants!” gasped Bob. “Look, Mr. Lewis, Dad!”
“Wonderful sight, isn’t it?” Mr. Holton gazed in interest.
The naturalists decided to make camp on the plain, so as to get a short rest before again entering the jungle. Then, when the hot afternoon sun would become less oppressive, they would plunge on toward the Forest of Mystery.
“While you’re resting here, suppose Joe and I explore around a little,” said Bob, picking up his rifle.
“We-ll—all right, boys,” returned Mr. Holton, with a look at Joe’s father. “But don’t take any chances. And don’t wander too far from camp.”
Glad of the chance to be on their own, the chums walked over the plain toward the herd of distant animals.
“Maybe we can plug an elephant,” grinned Joe, “purring” the movie camera.
“Maybe,” came from the other. “But then maybe not. It would be dangerous to tackle that herd single-handed. Suppose they’d charge us. Then where would we be?”
“Probably on our faces in the dirt,” Joe said. “Or perhaps”—grinning—“flying through the air.”