With a trumpet of triumph Badshah pursued. Dermot, left alone, could
hardly credit the passing of the danger. The whole episode seemed a
hideous nightmare from which he had just awaked. He could scarcely
believe that it had actually taken place, although the trampled
vegetation and the crashing sounds of the great animals' progress
through the undergrowth were evidence of its reality. The need for
action had not passed. The rogue might return, for a fight between wild
bull-elephants often lasts a whole day and consists of short and
desperate encounters, retreats, pursuits, and fresh battles. So he
hurriedly searched for his rifle, which he eventually found some
distance away. He opened the breach and replaced the soft-nosed bullets
with solid ones, more suitable for such big game. Then, once more
feeling a strong man armed, he waited expectantly. The sounds of the
chase had died away. But after a while he heard a heavy body forcing a
passage through the undergrowth and held his rifle ready. Then through
the tangle of bushes and creepers Badshah's head appeared. The elephant
came straight to him and touched him all over with outstretched trunk,
just as mother-elephants do their calves, as if to assure himself of his
man's safety.
Dermot could have kissed the soft, snake-like proboscis, and he patted the
animal affectionately and murmured his thanks to him.
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