Fritz had retreated with his masters as far as the bottom of the tree;
but possessing only canine claws, he was not a climber; and of course
could follow them no further. But if he could not ascend the tree, he
had no intention of remaining under it--when he saw no chance of
avoiding the vengeance of the elephant--and, without pausing for a
moment, he plunged into the water, and swam across the straits. Then
wading out on the the opposite bank, he scuttled off into a cover of
reeds which grew along the shore of the lake, and there concealed
himself.
This time the elephant paid no attention to the dog. It was upon the
hunters alone that its eyes were fixed; and towards them its vindictive
designs were now specially directed. It had been close upon their
heels, as they ran over the open ground, and distinctly saw them
ascending into the tree. Indeed, so near was it, that both Karl and
Caspar were once more obliged to let go their guns, in order that they
might have both hands free for climbing. Otherwise they might have been
too late to get out of reach, and the least delay on their part might
have been fatal to one or both.
Karl was the last to climb up; and just as he lifted his feet from a
branch to set them on one higher up, the rogue twisted his trunk around
the former, and snapped it in two, as if it had been only a slender
reed.
But Karl, with the others, was now beyond his reach; and all three
congratulated themselves on once more having escaped from a danger that
was nothing short of death itself.
If possible, the elephant was now more enraged than ever. It had not
only been a second time baulked in its vengeance, but had received three
fresh bullet-wounds; which, though mere scratches upon the skin of its
huge cranium, were sore enough to irritate it to an extreme degree.
Uttering its shrill, trumpet-like screech, it flourished its proboscis
high in the air; and seizing the branches that were within its reach, it
snapped them off from the main stem as if they had been tiny twigs.
In a short time the tree, which had been furnished with low-spreading
limbs, was completely stripped of these to a height of nearly
twenty-feet from the ground; while the space underneath had become
strewn with twigs, leaves, and broken branches, crushed into a litter
under the broad, ponderous hooves of the mammoth as he kept moving
incessantly over them.
Not content with stripping the tree of its branches, the old tusker
seized hold of its trunk--lapping his own _trunk_ as far as he could
around it--and commenced tugging at it, as if he had hopes of being able
to drag it up by the roots.
Perceiving after trial that this feat was beyond his power, he relaxed
his hold, and then set about another experiment--that of pushing down
the tree with his shoulder.
Although he succeeded in causing the tree to tremble, he soon became
satisfied that it stood firm enough to resist all his strength, great as
it was: and under this conviction he at length desisted from the
attempt.
He showed no sign, however, of any intention to leave the ground; but,
on the contrary, took his stand under the tree: since the very opposite
was the determination which he had formed in his mind.
Although confident that they were in security, our adventurers were
anything but exultant. They saw that they were only safe for the time;
and, that although their dreaded adversary might after a while withdraw
and leave them free to descend, still there could be no security for the
future. They had now less hope of being able to destroy this powerful
enemy: as they had only one charge left for their guns, and that might
not be sufficient to take away his life. The spilling of their powder
by the elephant itself seemed like a piece of strategy on his part,
leaving them in a sad dilemma.
Inside any house they might build, they would be no better protected
against him than on the open ground: for the rogue had proved himself
capable of demolishing the strongest walls they might construct; and to
be out of his reach, they would be obliged to keep eternally among the
tops of the trees, and lead the life of monkeys or squirrels--which
would be a very disagreeable kind of existence.
Just then an idea occurred to Caspar that offered them an alternative to
this unpleasant prospect of an arboreal life. He bethought him of the
cave in which they had killed the bear. It could only be reached by a
ladder, and would of course be inaccessible to the elephant. Once out
of their present dilemma, they might seek refuge there.