58 THE WILDERNESS AND JUNGLE 



existence, though a pigmy compared with 

 some of the mammoths that once roamed the 

 frozen steppes of Siberia. I have seen the 

 remains of one of these in the Natural History 

 Museum at St. Petersburg. It could not, in 

 life, have been a large specimen, but, with the 

 hairy skin, it must have been an uncouth 

 object and much more terrifying in appearance 

 than even the elephants of our day. 



The senses of the elephant are much as those 

 of other wild animals. It relies chiefly on its 

 scent, and the trunk tells it of the approach of 

 the enemy more often than either its wicked 

 little short-sighted eyes or even the huge ears, 

 which, in the African kind, are simply enor- 

 mous, but which are also, in many elephants, 

 quite incapable of hearing. It is curious, 

 indeed, that the largest ears in all creation 

 should belong to an animal that is almost deaf, 

 but it is a fact. The sense of smell, on the 

 other hand, is wonderful, and the sportsman 

 stalking a wild elephant has to exercise the 

 greatest caution, as, if the wind should sud- 

 denly shift, blowing from him to the animal, 

 it will at once smell him and either bolt away 

 into the jungle or charge outright. 



The cow elephant is devoted to her young 

 one, and always ready to put herself between 

 it and danger. It must be confessed, on the 

 other hand, that my lord, the elephant, puts the 



