4 AN ELEPHANT HUNT IN CEYLON 



composed. In this case it was a thick under- 

 growth, a tangle of foHage, with only here 

 and there a full-sized tree. There was all the 

 more room for less pleasant creepers and thorny 

 growths. 



As a result of the heavy rains the ground 

 was in a horribly sodden condition. We had 

 to squelch along the whole time through 

 extremely unpleasant boggy water, which came 

 well over our ankles. Moreover, it was very 

 hot, and the atmosphere was that of an orchid 

 house. I felt all the time as if I were hunting 

 in a Roman steam bath. 



Cautiously we followed the wide track of the 

 elephant, which, like some huge steam roller, 

 had crushed down everything in its path. 



We were a small party, four hunters in all. 

 Two were Englishmen. One was the owner of 

 the largest known elephant rifle. He had with 

 him a gigantic double-barrelled gun. The 

 other, an active little man, led and stalked 

 in front of me. In the rear were my friend 

 Finckenstein and the shikari. 



For about three-quarters of an hour we 



