“You may easily fancy that it was a noisy camp, with so many hundreds of men and animals around, full of excitement, more or less, about the coming fight; for we had a number of men, called trackers, out in the woods, who had brought in news that a herd of wild elephants had just been discovered in the Saharanpur and Dun forests, on the banks of the Ganges.
“The glens in these forests were known to be well suited for hunting purposes, so our hopes and expectations were raised to a high pitch. Towards evening we had got pretty well settled down, when a rumour got about the camp that one of the Khedda elephants had killed a man, and that it was highly probable he would run amuck to the great danger of every one. It happened thus:—
“A big tusker, named Mowla Buksh, was being taken by his mahowt to drink and bathe, according to custom, when it was observed that the elephant seemed to be out of temper. Just then one of the fodder-cutters chanced to pass by.
“‘Keep out of his way,’ cried the mahowt, in a warning tone. ‘There’s something wrong with him to-day. I won’t bathe him, I think.’
“‘Oh! he knows me well, and won’t harm me,’ returned the cutter.
“The words were scarcely out of the man’s mouth, when the brute rushed at him, knocked him down, gored him with his tusks, and kicked him after the fashion of enraged elephants. Of course the poor man was instantly killed. When this deed was done, Mowlah Buksh seemed to feel that, having lost his character, he might as well go on in his course of mischief. He became wild with fury, and kept throwing his head back in a vain endeavour to seize his mahowt with his trunk and kill him also. In this effort he failed. The mahowt, though old, was active and strong. He managed to hold on and sit so far back on the elephant’s hind quarters as to be just out of reach. Luckily the brute did not think of shaking him off.
“Had he attempted that, he would soon have succeeded. The poor man would have fallen to the ground and been killed. Finding that he could not accomplish his purpose, the infuriated animal rushed towards the camp, where the khedda or hunting elephants were, and where, as I have said, our Director had pitched his tent. My own tent was close beside his.
“The first I heard of what was going on was from Quin, who came running into my tent, where I was sitting quietly at the time, cleaning my rifle. Quin’s eyes were starting out of his head, and there was, I assure you, nothing of the pleasant smile that rests on his face at this moment!
“‘Och, sor!’ gasped Quin, ‘Bowla Muk—no—Mowla Buksh—has gone mad entoirely!’
“I jumped up quickly, you may believe, for I didn’t often see that look on Quin’s face, and when I did, I knew well that something very serious was in the wind.