By the last light of day, Groot Willem made another reconnaissance and found the elephant still patiently waiting and watching.
A night so dark that they could not distinguish each other by sight now mantled the river, and the heavens above continued pouring forth their unabated wrath. They might now have stolen away unknown to the besieger; but they had no longer the desire to do so. Confident that the animal could not keep its feet till morning, after the rough handling it had received, they resolved upon staying till it fell, and securing its fine tusks.
Two or three hours passed, and still the rain kept falling, though not quite so heavily as at first.
“I don’t like this sort of thing,” said Hendrik. “Swart and Cong, in the pits, could not have been much unhappier than we are. I should like to know if the enemy is still on guard. What do you say to our going off?”
“We mustn’t think of it,” counselled Arend. “Even if the elephant be gone, we cannot find our horses in such a dark night. If it be still waiting for us, we could not see it five paces off, while it might see us. We had better stay when we are till morning.”
“Your advice is good, Arend,” said Willem. I don’t believe that we have a gun among us that could be discharged; if attacked, as we are now, we should be defenceless.
Arend’s suggestion was adopted, and they resolved to remain upon the rock till morning.
During the night, the rain continued to pour, half drowning them in their exposed situation. The hours passed slowly and wearily. They began to have serious doubts of ever seeing day again; but it came at length.
Just as the first faint gleams of the aurora appeared in the east, they were startled by a sudden crashing among the branches of the tree, and the next moment, they saw the bridge by which they had reached the rock, in the act of being carried away by the current!
“Look out!” shouted Arend; “the tree is off. Keep clear of the branches, or we shall be swept along with it.”