ii2 My Friend the Elephant 



and yet I tried to cheer him. There he lay unflinch- 

 ingly, his eyes fast glazing and his quivering trunk 

 passing alternately to the little elephant, to Scott his 

 keeper, and myself. He was breathing hard, but not 

 another sound escaped his lips. The baby elephant 

 seemed dazed, Scott was crying, and the little crowd 

 about the prostrate body was speechless with awe and 

 terror. I do not know what I did. I only remem- 

 ber clasping in my hands that marvellous trunk 

 which, even in the dying hour, seemed instinct with 

 sentiment and affection. Gently it responded to my 

 frantic pressure, even while it shivered in its death 

 agonies. Fainter and fainter grew that grasp, and I 

 knew the life within was passing away as grandly and 

 gently as it had always lived. 



Suddenly the majestic head was raised, the closed 

 eyes opened and earnestly gazed about. The noble 

 animal looked with pity at Scott, with wonder at the 

 gathering crowd, with tenderness at the baby, and, as 

 I sincerely believe, with love at me. My streaming 

 eyes were too dim to see clearly, but the expression 

 could not be mistaken. Slowly the head lowered, as 



