60 THE WILDERNESS AND JUNGLE 



ryot's crops and gardens, spoiling whole planta- 

 tions of tea and coffee, pulverising the native 

 huts, and doing terrific damage, much of it in 

 aimless frolic. In the heat of the day they 

 rest beneath some clump of banyan trees or in 

 other shade, ears flapping, bodies swaying, 

 first one foot and then the other being lifted 

 off the ground. At the hottest time of the 

 year they seek shelter in some forest of ever- 

 greens, and when asleep they do not, as some 

 artists still prefer to picture them, lean against 

 the trunks of trees, but lie on their sides like 

 men and horses and many other tired animals, 

 both wild and tame. We have got so accus- 

 tomed to these elephants leaning against trees 

 that I almost hesitate to destroy belief in the 

 habit, but it is best to have the truth, even 

 though it be less picturesque than fiction. 



For all its great size and colossal strength, 

 the Indian elephant has an abject fear of man, 

 and, considering what a puny figure of a man 

 the average mahout, or driver, is, this docile 

 submission says a good deal for the thorough- 

 ness with which the natives of India have 

 tamed these giants. Of this more will be said 

 in a later chapter. The readiness with which 

 wild elephants caught in keddahs are, with the 

 help of tame ones, reduced to obedience is 

 extraordinary. It is ludicrous to watch one of 

 these tremendous brutes taking its punishment 



