Neither Jack nor his dog Fawn was there.
"We don't know what has become of Jack," said Mr. Wolston, sadly.
And this is the story he told, a story often broken by the sobs of all who heard it.
The descent from the summit of the peak to the foot of the range had been made in two hours. Jack, the first to get down, shot some game on the fringe of the pinewood. Supper was eaten in front of the cave, a fire was left alight outside, and all three retired within. One kept watch at the entrance while the other two slept soundly.
The night was disturbed only by the distant howling of wild beasts.
From the summit of the peak Ernest had noticed that the forest seemed to be clearer towards the east, and, at his suggestion, the three men went in that direction. It would mean quicker marching, and the distance would only be lengthened by a couple of miles or so.
At eleven o'clock a halt was made. After luncheon the three came on through the thinner forests, where it was easier walking.
About two o'clock they heard heavy trampling and a loud trumpeting noise among the trees.
There could be no mistake whence this proceeded. A herd of elephants was passing through the pinewood.
No, not a herd—only three appeared, two of enormous size, the parents, and behind them a baby elephant.