“Such as you showed Lord Muligatawny, I suppose,” said the young merchant, laughing.
“Oh no, there’s no danger,” replied his host; and then taking an air-gun of a peculiar construction towards his visitor, added, “Now, look at this weapon—one of the best of the kind ever made. This is fixed on a swivel in the carriage in which you sit on the elephant; and you are quite safe, and, if you are a tolerable marksman, are sure to wound your game. Besides this, the hunter generally has a strong short sword, like this,” said he, producing a weapon of that description. “Very sharp and very useful too, for if the tiger leaps on the elephant, which he will frequently do, the hunter with a good blow at his head may settle his business. Come and hunt, man, come and hunt.”
“Confound these mosquitoes!” exclaimed the professor in a rage, vainly endeavouring to drive the insects from about him, and making the most ludicrous grimaces, as in spite of his exertions they succeeded in biting the exposed part of his head. “These horrible things will torment me to death. Ever since I have been in this deplorable country, my head has been besieged by thousands of them. They don’t let me rest a minute. Ah! What a gripe! I shall go mad! They’ll torment me to death; I can’t endure it, Sir Curry.”
“You’ll soon get used to it,” said his host, quietly. “This is the way they always use strangers. You are fresh meat to them. But come and hunt—come and hunt; I’ll have the elephants got ready for you immediately, and it’s a capital day for the sport.”
“What say you, gentlemen? Shall we hunt the tiger?” asked Oriel Porphyry.
“I would rather you would hunt the musquitoes,” said Fortyfolios, seriously.
“What say you, Zabra?”
“If you wish it, Oriel,” replied the youth.
“I have not the slightest objection, don’t you see,” observed the doctor.