AN ELEPHANT 233 



hurtling through brush— and the elephants were 

 gone. 



Consternation seized upon my party and they 

 showed inclination to give it up ; but although ele- 

 phants were new to me, hunting game was not, and 

 I knew perseverance to be the power to which 

 finally even ill-luck succumbs. So I started on 

 and the rest followed me. The tracks now 

 were scattered and led through the thickest kind 

 of jungle; most of the time I wallowed in mud 

 nearly up to my knees, unable to get any view 

 ahead. There were no leeches, but the mosquitoes 

 and sand flies and red ants made life miserable 

 enough. Nets were of no avail against the on- 

 slaught of the mosquitoes and the flies; while I 

 crawled over the muck, they buzzed about my head 

 in distracting chorus. And the steamy dank heat 

 made travel all but unendurable. It was no 

 child's play; I believe it seemed less endurable 

 than the privations of Arctic hunting. But it is 

 all in the game ; and I wanted an elephant. 



At last, after interminable wallowing, again I 

 heard the elephants. It was impossible to work 

 to leeward, as no perceptible wind was stirring for 

 guidance. I was carrying my 50-calibre half mag- 

 azine and had given my double 12-bore to one of 

 my Malays whom I now motioned to follow me. 

 We were still in the densest jungle, sinking over 



