MY BIG TUSKEK. l8l 



expectation of sport for the day, I had just put on a 

 light pair of canvas slippers in lieu of my heavy shoot- 

 ing boots, when we heard an elephant give an appalling 

 trumpet call from the right bank of the river, about a 

 hundred yards higher up stream. 



We instantly pulled in to the bank. I grasped my 

 heavy elephant gun and sprang on shore, followed by 

 my Dyaks. 



At this point of the river the jungle was very bad 

 going. As you went forward, one step would be on a 

 hard tussock and the next would be in mud a foot deep. 

 The vegetation consisted of palms, and the ground was 

 overrun by prickly weeds and binders. Moreover, there 

 were no trees about which could save a man from a 

 charge. 



As we approached the elephants I heard a bull giving 

 an ominous grumble. This sound somewhat resembles 

 the rolling of peas on a drum head. Perhaps some may 

 not understand the simile. I will liken it, therefore, to 

 stage thunder. It is a deep bass purring or growling, 

 and is supposed to be an indication that the elephant is 

 in an evil humour. I believe he produces the sound by 

 putting the tip of his trunk near the ground and exhal- 

 ing blasts of air. 



This elephant varied the performance by an occa- 

 sional noise resembling a rush of steam, as though a 

 locomotive was clearing its cylinders before starting on 

 its journey. He was evidently irritated by our approach, 

 and had no idea of decamping without giving battle. 



It was now so dark that in the shade of the jungle 

 I could not see my foresight distinctly, and I did not 

 feel exactly comfortable. One of my Dyaks added to 

 my uneasiness by saying : " There are two of them, a 



