SAGE CORNERS, N. Y., 10.30.
Just arrived. Elephant passed through here at 8.15. All escaped
from the town but a policeman. Apparently elephant did not strike
at policeman, but at the lamp-post. Got both. I have secured a
portion of the policeman as clue.
STUMM, Detective.
“So the elephant has turned westward,” said the inspector. “However, he will not escape, for my men are scattered all over that region.”
The next telegram said:
GLOVER'S, 11.15
Just arrived. Village deserted, except sick and aged. Elephant passed
through three-quarters of an hour ago. The anti-temperance mass-meeting
was in session; he put his trunk in at a window and washed it out with
water from cistern. Some swallowed it—since dead; several drowned.
Detectives Cross and O'Shaughnessy were passing through town, but
going south—so missed elephant. Whole region for many miles around in
terror—people flying from their homes. Wherever they turn they meet
elephant, and many are killed. BRANT, Detective.
I could have shed tears, this havoc so distressed me. But the inspector only said:
“You see—we are closing in on him. He feels our presence; he has turned eastward again.”
Yet further troublous news was in store for us. The telegraph brought this:
HOGANSPORT, 12.19.
Just arrived. Elephant passed through half an hour ago, creating
wildest fright and excitement. Elephant raged around streets; two
plumbers going by, killed one—other escaped. Regret general.
O'FLAHERTY, Detective.
“Now he is right in the midst of my men,” said the inspector. “Nothing can save him.”
A succession of telegrams came from detectives who were scattered through New Jersey and Pennsylvania, and who were following clues consisting of ravaged barns, factories, and Sunday-school libraries, with high hopes-hopes amounting to certainties, indeed. The inspector said: