“This is strange,” said Mr. Graham.
“Yes,” replied the King, “it is, but nevertheless true. Elephants do not seem to have the fear of human beings that many other animals have, but seem rather to like the association of man. I have seen wild elephants follow us from out of the jungle, right down to the gate of the Hunting Reserve, as gentle and seemingly as tame as the ones we were riding, and I have no doubt that if we had let them through the gate, they would have followed us to the city, and would have been just as happy and contented with their tame companions as they had been running wild in the jungle.”
“It seems a pity, then, that we have to leave them here,” said Mr. Bruce, “when with help they might be gotten to where they could be nursed back to life.”
“It would take considerable time and trouble, though, to do so,” said Onrai. “Still, if we had men with us they could bring them food and water and in this way put life enough into them to get them to the villa. But come, the sun is nearly hidden behind the cliffs, and we have a long ride before us.”
As if the dying elephants knew that their would-be rescuers were leaving them, they turned their heads and watched them as they rode away, the most pitiful expression coming into their little black eyes. There were easily a hundred of them, and they made a great black spot on the plain with their bodies, which were only half covered.
Our friends now hurried toward the villa, and after a ride of two hours, again pulled up in front of the terrace. They had entered the villa, and were just about to seat themselves to the evening meal, when the tramping of many zebras’ hoofs were heard, and our friends, going to the front entrance, looked toward the now covered avenue, and there saw in the half light, a band of not less than two hundred mounted men. When they saw the lights of the villa they turned and came toward it. Silently they picked their way between the trees and up to the terrace, where, recognizing the King, they gave a loud shout and then began a chant, which Onrai explained to his companions, was a chant of praise. After the chant was finished, the King stood on the terrace steps and said:
“Onians, my countrymen, the sight of your faces, coming so unexpectedly, pleases me greatly and draws from my heart some of the sadness which the events of the past short while have caused. Your presence makes me feel that if some of our dearly beloved men have gone, there yet remains their sons and brothers and fathers, who will make this fair Land of On yet the same as we knew it before the fearful eruption. We have met with a terrible loss, but our men died in a good cause, and died bravely.”
“We do not understand you, oh King,” said one of the foremost.
“Ah, I forgot,” said Onrai, “but enough to-night. Find quarters for yourselves and beasts, and on the morrow I will explain further. Prepare yourselves, however, for sad news, for such you will hear.”
The men turned from the terrace and the King and his guests again went into the villa. Onrai seemed much depressed, for how was he going to tell these men that their fathers, sons and brothers had perished by the hands of a band of negroes, and the terrible shower of ashes. They would not understand either unless they could realize that this new covering of ashes had overtaken their friends unexpectedly, and had buried them. But then it would be hard to make them understand the eruption and what caused it. They were too far away at the time to see or know anything of the awful overflow, unless it be a black cloud which they could possibly see. They may have felt the shocks of earthquake, but even this they might not have experienced. Then they could know nothing of how their friends had met death, nor could they understand the means by which they had fallen.