ROGUES OF THE FOREST
The lord of the forest--Wild elephants in India--_Kheddah_
operations in the Terai--How rogues are made--Rogues
attack villages--Highway robbers--Assault on a railway
station--A police convoy--A poacher's death--Chasing an
officer--My first encounter with a rogue--Stopping a
charge--Difficulty of killing an elephant--The law on
rogue-shooting--A Government gazette--A tame elephant
shot by the Maharajah of Cooch Behar--Executing an
elephant--A chance shot--A planter's escape--Attack on
a tame elephant--The _mahout's_ peril--Jhansi's
wounds--Changes among the officers in Buxa--A Gurkha's
terrible death--The beginner's luck--Indian and Malayan
_sambhur_--A shot out of season--A fruitless
search--Jhansi's flight--A scout attacked by a
bear--Advertising for a truant--The agony
column--Runaway elephants--A fatal fraud--Jhansi's
return.
What animal can dispute with the elephant the proud title of lord of the
forest? All give way to him as he stalks unchallenged through the
woodland. The vaunted tiger shrinks aside from his path; and only the
harmless beasts regard him without dismay, for he is merciful as he is
strong. And the shield of the British Government is raised to protect
him from man; for the laws of its forest department ordain that he must
not be slain.
The stretches of jungle along the foot of the Himalayas harbour herds of
wild elephants, which, thus saved from the sportsman's rifle, increase
and multiply. These useful and usually harmless animals are far from
being exterminated in India. Free to wander unscathed in Government
forests, their numbers are not diminishing. The continuity of the Terai
saves them from capture; for the ordinary _kheddah_ operations, which
consist of hemming a herd into a certain patch of jungle and driving it
into a stockade of stout timbers is useless in forests where the animals
can wander on in shelter indefinitely. This method is costly; for it
requires the services of a trained staff of hunters and large numbers of
coolies, and may take months. It was once tried near Buxa and, after a
great expenditure of money, labour and time, did not result in the
capture of one elephant. So the Government has adopted here another
system. It lets out the _kheddah_ rights to certain rajahs and big
_Zemindars_ (landholders) who furnish parties of hunters and tame
elephants to go into the jungle and pursue the herds. Once on the trail
of one they follow it persistently and keep it constantly on the move.
When a calf elephant becomes exhausted and falls behind the others, the
men fire on the mother and drive her off or kill her, surround the
youngster and secure it by slipping ropes on its legs. It is then
fastened between tame elephants and led off, a prisoner.
This method is responsible for the existence of a number of dangerous
"rogue" elephants in the jungles near Buxa; for the worried herds break
up and some of the males take to a solitary life. And of all the perils
of the forest the rogue is the worst. The tiger or the panther rarely
attacks man; and when it does, it is only for food. The bear, when
unmolested, is generally harmless. But the vicious rogue seems to kill
for the mere lust of murder. Occasionally a tusker, not belonging to a
harried herd, develops a liking to a lonely existence and strays away
from the others of his kind. Probably because he is an old bachelor and
deprived of the softening influence of the female sex, he becomes surly
and dangerous. He may take to wandering into cultivation at night and
feeding on the crops, as wild elephants often do. The villagers
naturally object to this, light fires around their fields, and turn out
with torches, horns and drums to scare the intruders off. The herds are
generally easily stampeded; but sometimes the surly old tusker, enraged
at having his meal of succulent grain disturbed, charges the peasants
and perhaps kills one or two of them. This not only destroys in him the
wild animal's natural dread of man, but seems to give him a taste for
bloodshed quite at variance with the elephant's accustomed gentleness of
disposition.
The tales told me when I first went to Buxa of the ferocity and lust of
cruelty of rogues seemed incredible. I heard of them deliberately
entering villages on tea gardens, breaking through the frail structures
of bamboo and tearing down hut after hut until they reached the houses
of the _bunniahs_, or tradesmen who dealt in grain and food-stuffs. Then
they feasted royally on the contents of the shops. Roads cut through the
forest lead from the railway line to the gardens or from village to
village; and along these come trains of bullock carts loaded with grain.
Wild elephants used to lie in wait in the jungle until these were
passing, then charge out on them, kill the drivers and bullocks and loot
the grain.
While I was at Buxa two cases occurred of such attacks on carts close
to Rajabhatkawa Station. In one the drivers got away safely; but a woman
with them tripped and fell to the ground. The elephant overtook her,
deliberately put his foot on her head and crushed her to death. In the
other case the natives all escaped; but the rogue killed several of the
bullocks, broke up the carts and hurled one on to the rails, where it
lay until removed by the railway company officials who actually
prosecuted the owner for obstructing the line. The station at
Rajabhatkawa was attacked on one occasion. A tusker elephant suddenly
appeared on the metals. The staff rushed into the building and locked
themselves in. An engine happened to be standing in the station and the
driver blew the whistle loudly to scare the animal off. The sound only
infuriated the elephant; but, probably not liking the appearance of the
engine, he ignored it, attacked the platform and tried to root it up. In
doing so he broke off one of his tusks and, screaming with pain, rushed
off into the jungle. I think that this was a brute with which I had a
fight afterwards.
The rogues did not always grasp the fact that every bullock cart passing
through the forest was not necessarily loaded with grain. On one
occasion a convoy of convicts loaded with iron fetters was being taken
to Alipur Duar in carts, escorted by armed native police. Suddenly from
the jungle through which they were passing rushed out a wild elephant
which charged the procession furiously. Drivers, police, prisoners,
leapt from the carts and fled in terror. The wretched convicts, hampered
by their leg-irons, stumbled, tripped and fell frequently. But
fortunately for them the rogue was too busily engaged in chasing the
frightened bullocks, killing them and smashing up the carts in a
fruitless search for grain, to pay any attention to the men; and they
all escaped.
A vicious elephant's method of slaughtering its human prey is
particularly horrible. Our nearest planter neighbour, Tyson of
Hathipota, was a man who knew the Terai well, having lived in various
parts of the Duars, and had had much experience in big-game shooting. He
told me of a terrible case which he had seen when on a visit to a forest
officer in the Western Duars jungles. Into his host's solitary bungalow
one day rushed two terrified forest guards to tell him of an awful
spectacle which they had just witnessed. They had been lying hidden
watching a well-known native poacher fishing in a preserved river. He
was on the opposite bank and the stream at that part was unfordable.
While they were discussing a plan to capture him, they saw a wild
elephant appear out of the jungle behind the poacher and stealthily
approach him. To their horror the brute suddenly rushed on the
unsuspecting man, knocked him down, trampled on him and then, placing
one foot on his thighs, wound its trunk round his body, seized him in
its mouth and literally tore him to pieces. The story seemed too
horrible to be true; but the forest officer and Tyson visited the spot
and found the corpse of the luckless poacher crushed and mutilated as
the eyewitnesses to the tragedy had narrated. The elephant's footprints
were clearly visible. I could hardly credit the story until a similar
case came to my own notice.
Another instance of unprovoked attack was related to me by Captain
Denham White, Indian Medical Service, who had formerly been doctor to
the Buxa detachment. An elephant had been reported to be committing
havoc in the forest in the vicinity; and the then commanding officer and
Denham White endeavoured to find and shoot him. They searched the jungle
for a week in vain. Then White vowed that the animal was a phantom
elephant and refused to accompany the commandant on the eighth day of
the hunt. Taking his orderly with him, he went fishing in a river which
flowed through the forest. The water in it was low; and the greater part
of the bed was dry and covered with loose, rounded boulders which had
been swept down from the hills during the Rains. White was busily
engaged with his rod and line when he heard the orderly shout. Turning,
he saw to his horror a large tusker elephant descending the steep bank
and coming straight towards them. It was the missing rogue. The two men
ran for their lives. The elephant pursued them, but, slipping and
stumbling over the loose boulders, was unable to move quickly. Denham
White, and his orderly gained the opposite bank and reached a road along
a fire line and got away. It was fortunate for them that they had a good
start and were close to this road; for in the jungle they would
inevitably have been overtaken and killed.
A good runner may outpace an elephant on level ground for a short
sprint. But in thick jungle a man has a poor chance. Undergrowth and
creepers that bar his progress will not hinder an elephant, which can
burst through them easily. He cannot escape up a tree; for the large
ones in the forest are devoid of branches for many feet from the ground,
and any tree slender enough for him to grasp and climb could be easily
knocked down by the elephant. But I am not sure that the animal would
have sufficient intelligence to do so in order to reach the man.
I was not long in Buxa before making the acquaintance of a rogue. About
three weeks after my arrival I was out in the forest on Khartoum,
accompanied by her _mahout_, Bechan, and a _shikaree_ or native hunter.
Early in the day I shot a _sambhur_ stag. The two men slipped off the
elephant to _hallal_ it; and I followed to photograph the dead beast
with a hand-camera. The _mahout_ was holding up the head in position for
me, when we heard a sudden crashing in the jungle behind us. Bechan
dropped the head in evident alarm and said:
"Sahib, that is a wild elephant. I believe it has been following us; for
I heard it behind us as we came along."
Hardly had he spoken, when the head of an elephant appeared above the
undergrowth. It was a male with a splendid pair of long curved tusks.
The moment it caught sight of us it stopped. New to the jungle, I was
under the impression that all wild elephants were inoffensive creatures.
So I was rejoiced at this opportunity of photographing one, for such
pictures are very rare; and, camera in hand, I started towards it. But
the moment Khartoum saw the intruder, she stampeded, followed by her
_mahout_. The _shikaree_ yelled:
"It's a mad elephant. Shoot, Sahib, shoot, and save our lives!" And he
bolted.
The newcomer still stood motionless, looking at me; and I smiled at my
men's alarm. Still I thought it advisable to put the camera down and
take up my rifle. It was unloaded; so I slipped in a couple of solid
bullets instead of the "soft-nosed" ones used for animals less hard
to pierce than elephants or bison. But I had no intention of firing; for
the forest regulations impose penalties up to six months' imprisonment
or a fine of five hundred rupees for killing an elephant. I looked
regretfully at the fine tusks; they would have been a splendid trophy.
Still smoking my pipe I walked towards the animal which had not moved
but was regarding me with a fixed stare. I halted and, taking off my big
sun-helmet, waved it in the air and shouted:
"Shoo! you brute. Be off!"
[Illustration: "THE MAHOUT WAS HOLDING UP THE HEAD."]
My voice seemed to enrage the elephant. Up went its head, it curled its
trunk, uttered a slight squeal and charged at me. I dropped on one knee
and aimed at its forehead. With the fear of the forest department before
my eyes, I hesitated to press the trigger until the huge bulk seemed
almost towering over me. Then I fired. As if struck by a thunderbolt the
elephant stopped dead in its furious rush and sank on its knees only
fifteen paces from me. But even then I did not realise what an escape I
had had. My first thought, as I picked up my pipe and stood erect was:
"How can I hide the body, so that the forest officer will never know of
my crime?"
So dense was the undergrowth that I could not see the prostrate animal
in it. Rifle-butt resting on the ground, I pulled at my pipe
perplexedly. I wondered how I could explain my act to the forest
authorities. I knew, of course, that I had not to fear imprisonment; but
a fine seemed certain. And a worse penalty might be inflicted, the
cancellation of my shooting-licence. And I shuddered at the thought of
two years in Buxa Duar if I were not allowed to solace my solitude by
sport. It never occurred to me that the fact that I would have been
killed if I had not fired would be accepted as a sufficient excuse for
breaking the Draconic laws of Government.
Suddenly the elephant rose up, turned and dashed away blindly into the
forest. My bullet had only stunned it. Bursting through the tangled
undergrowth, snapping tough creepers like thread, trampling down small
trees and smashing off thick branches, it rushed off mad with pain and
terror. Long after I had lost sight of it I could hear its noisy
progress through the jungle. I was intensely relieved at its recovery
and departure, and did not realise that it was fortunate for me that it
did not renew the attack.
I inspected the spot where it had fallen. The ground was ploughed up by
its toes where it had been suddenly stopped in its charge; and the
undergrowth was crushed flat from the weight of its body. There was a
fair amount of blood on the leaves and grass around. I measured the
distance to the spot where I had knelt. It was exactly fifteen paces; so
I had not fired a moment too soon. While I stood disconsolate the
_shikaree_ returned. He explained that after the shot he had listened
for my dying shrieks and, not hearing them, concluded that I had come
off victorious in the encounter. He endeavoured in vain to convince me
that I had been right to fire. Shortly afterwards Bechan returned with
the still terrified Khartoum; and he agreed with the other man. It
occurred to me that the elephant might have fallen again further on; so
I thought it advisable to follow him and if I found him dying, put him
out of pain. But Bechan and the _shikaree_ absolutely refused to go with
me; so I started off on foot. But in fifty yards I realised that I
would certainly lose myself in the jungle, so I was obliged to return
ignominiously to them.
Next day, however, Bechan's courage was restored; and he took me again
to the spot. We had no difficulty in picking out the tusker's trail. A
broad, almost straight track led away for hundreds of yards. The
undergrowth was trampled down, small trees broken off and the ground
covered with branches snapped off by the animal's body in its blind
haste. At one place the beast had stopped and kicked up some earth to
plaster on its wound, as elephants always do. We followed the trail for
nearly three miles and then lost it where it mingled with innumerable
old tracks of other elephants.
When I knew more about these animals I was not surprised that my shot
had not killed the rogue. The front of an elephant's skull is enormously
thick and the brain is very small. A bullet in the head not reaching the
brain will never kill the brute on the spot, and is not necessarily
fatal. Sanderson, the great authority on elephant-shooting narrates many
such cases and says:
"It will be evident, on an examination of the skull, that if
the brain be missed by a shot no harm will be done to the
animal, as there are no other vital organs, such as large
blood-vessels etc., situated in the head. It thus happens that,
in head shots, if the elephant is not dropped on the spot he is
very rarely bagged at all. A shot that goes through his skull
into his neck without touching his brain may kill him, but it
will take time. I have never recovered any elephant that has
left the spot with a head shot. The blood-trail
for a few yards is generally very thick; but it often ceases as
suddenly as it is at first copious. Elephants are sometimes
floored by the concussion of a shot, if the ball passes very
close to the brain; large balls frequently effect this. No time
should be lost in finishing a floored elephant, or he will
certainly make his escape. Many cases have occurred of
elephants which have been regarded as dead suddenly recovering
themselves and making off."
The position of the head held high in charging protects the one deadly
spot in the forehead; and, to quote Sanderson again:
"To reach the brain of a charging elephant from in front the
bullet must pass through about three feet of curled trunk,
flesh and bone. It is thus occasionally impossible to kill an
elephant if the head be held very high."
I could have finished off the tusker at my ease as he lay on the ground,
had it not been for my loyal obedience to the regulations. On my return
to Buxa I sent a telegram, followed by an official letter of explanation
and apology, to the forest officer. His reply filled me with annoyance
when I learned that my scruples had been uncalled for and that I could
have slain the brute, and probably would have been allowed to keep the
tusks. His letter said:
"RAJABHATKAWA,
"14-1-09.
"MY DEAR CASSERLY,--Yours of 11-1-09 _re_ elephant. You were undoubtedly
justified in shooting at it; and I must congratulate you on a very
narrow escape. In defence of self or property or cultivation you may
shoot at any elephant but as far as I read the Act, which is somewhat
vague, you must not pursue the elephant further unless it is a
'proclaimed' rogue; that is, proclaimed by Government. There are a
number of solitary male rogue elephants about that are always dangerous
and should be shot at on sight, especially if you have an elephant with
you. If you can tell me the approximate height of this elephant and if a
single or double tusker and any distinguishing peculiarities, I will
write to the deputy commissioner and get it proclaimed. We had a man
killed in one of our forest villages at Mendabari recently; and our
_babus_ were held up the other day by a rogue. But this animal has one
tusk broken off short. A double tusker killed one of our sawyers near
here and was proclaimed and a reward of fifty rupees and the tusks
offered. Possibly this was your elephant.
"Yours etc., etc."
Rogue elephants, like man-eating tigers, are honoured with a notice in
Government gazettes. Shortly afterwards I received a copy of such a
gazette, which read:
"A reward of fifty rupees is offered for the destruction of each of the
rogue elephants described below:
(1). One single-tusker height 9' 10". This animal killed a man
on 2nd January, 1909, and frequents the Borojhar Forest and
western portion of the Buxa reserve and does considerable
damage to crops in the adjoining villages.
(2). One double-tusker with large tusks. Height 9' 10". This
animal charged Captain Casserly and his elephant on the 30th
Mile line of the Buxa reserve and was only turned by a shot at
close quarters."
Not long afterwards, when on a visit to the Maharajah of Cooch Behar, I
was taken by his second son, Prince Jitendra, to inspect the Peelkhana.
There I saw an example of how easily elephants recover from terrible
wounds. Securely chained to a tree at a distance from the other animals
was a large tusker which, while the Maharajah had been having a beat for
tiger a few weeks before, had suddenly gone mad and attacked the other
elephants. Prince Rajendra, the present Maharajah,[3] had ridden up
close to it and fired two shots at it from his heavy cordite rifle. One
bullet struck it in the head, the other in the shoulder. Yet here it was
feeding in apparently the best of health. Below the right eye was the
scar of an almost healed wound; while in the shoulder a hole was still
visible but nearly filled up. And five years before, when suffering from
a similar attack of madness, it had been shot by the Maharajah with his
.500 rifle, and had completely recovered in a very short time from the
wounds then received.
In the days of a previous commanding officer of Buxa a tame elephant had
been condemned to death on account of old age and infirmity and was
handed over to the detachment to be shot. A squad of sepoys with .303
Lee-Enfield rifles was drawn up five paces in front of it and fired a
volley at its forehead. But the elephant only winced at the blows and
stood its ground. Then the men drew off to one side and aimed at its
heart. A volley here killed it. The British officer had the head skinned
and found that the first bullets had only penetrated a very short way
into the skull, some of them being flattened against the bone.
On the other hand cases have occurred of elephants succumbing easily to
chance shots from small-bore rifles. On a tea garden not far from Buxa a
rogue had been destroying the crops in the cultivation. A young planter
sat up in a _machan_[4] in a tree near the fields to watch for it. He
was armed with a .303 carbine. He fell asleep and suddenly woke up to
find the elephant passing right underneath him. Without taking aim he
fired blindly into the dark mass below his _machan_. The elephant rushed
off. The planter remained on his perch until daylight, and, descending,
met his manager and told him what he had done. The latter was an
experienced sportsman and inveighed forcibly at the useless cruelty of
firing at an elephant with such a small bullet, which could only wound
and infuriate the animal. While he was speaking a coolie ran up to
inform that the elephant was lying dead a few hundred yards in the
fields. The bullet, entering the back from above, had been deflected by
bones and had taken an erratic course through the body, seeming to have
pierced every vital organ in it in turn.
I heard of a case in Assam where a planter, carrying a .303 rifle, was
walking along a road when he was suddenly charged by a wild elephant. He
fired at its mouth. The animal turned and ran away. As it did so the
planter fired again and hit it under the tail. The elephant staggered on
a short distance and then fell dead. One of my sepoys, when on guard at
Santrabari, fired at a wild elephant which was attacking our tame ones
in the stables. The man used his Lee-Enfield rifle and scarcely waited
to take aim.
Yet the animal, a _muckna_ or tuskerless male, dropped dead within a few
yards.
Our tame elephants were taken into the forest every day to graze. One
morning Jhansi was out in charge of her _mahout_ about two miles from
Santrabari, when a single-tusker rogue suddenly charged out of the
jungle at her. The terrified _mahout_ flung himself off her neck and
crept away through the undergrowth. The rogue hurled himself against
Jhansi and knocked her down by the force of his attack. He drove his one
tusk deep into her back and drew off to gather impetus for a fresh
charge. Jhansi scrambled to her feet and bolted. The brute pursued her,
prodding viciously at her hind quarters; but being a fast mover, she
outstripped him and got back to Santrabari. Her vicious assailant
followed her for a short distance and then returned to search the
undergrowth for the _mahout_ but, luckily for the latter, without
finding him. Jhansi was brought up to the fort for me to doctor. I found
a round punctured wound several inches deep in her back; and on her rump
were several smaller holes and cuts made by the rogue elephants. She was
an excellent patient and stood the cleaning and disinfecting of her
wounds admirably.
This unprovoked attack made it imperative that I should try to put an
end to the rogue's career; for, if he remained in our neighbourhood, the
_mahouts_ would be afraid to take their animals out to graze. So I
instituted a hunt for him. Creagh had been transferred to Gyantse in
Tibet, his place being taken by a junior captain of the regiment named
Balderston. A young Irish lieutenant in the Indian Medical Service was
now our doctor, as Smith had gone to another corps. As it was during the
rainy season when the Terai Jungle is filled with the deadliest malarial
fever, it was impossible to camp in the forest. But I came down from the
hills every day and searched far and wide for the outlaw and soon found
terrible traces of his presence. The body of a Gurkha, killed by him,
was discovered on a path through the jungle. The man had been proceeding
along it on foot when he had been met and attacked by the rogue. His
head and body had been crushed flat and stamped into the ground, the
legs torn off and hurled twenty yards away. The elephant had evidently
placed his foot on the body, taken the legs in his mouth and torn the
poor wretch to pieces. The sight made me long to meet the brute and put
an end to his vicious career. But though we searched the jungle day
after day, we never met him.
However, during the hunt, our doctor, who was new to big-game shooting,
had the usual beginner's luck and secured the record _sambhur_ head for
the district. The _sambhur_ in these jungles belong to the Malayan
species which, probably owing to the dense forest they inhabit, have
much shorter though thicker horns than the so-called Indian _sambhur_
found in other parts of the Peninsula. The stags are generally darker,
the old ones almost black or slate-coloured; and their tails are more
bushy. While the record Indian head is fifty and an eighth inches,
Lydekker gives the longest Malayan antlers as thirty and an eighth
inches; though an officer formerly in Buxa shot one with horns
thirty-three inches in length.
As killing deer is prohibited in Government jungles during the hot
weather and Rains, that being the close season, I had warned Balderston
and the doctor not to fire at any we met with. And besides this, I did
not want to run the risk of alarming the rogue for which we were
hunting. But one day we came suddenly upon a large _sambhur_ stag. It
was the first specimen of big game that the doctor, new to India, had
ever seen. He became greatly excited and raised his rifle. Balderston,
behind whom he was seated on Dundora, warned him not to fire; but,
misunderstanding in his excitement, he pulled the trigger. The bullet
struck the _sambhur_ in the foreleg; and the beast went off limping.
Shooting a stag in the close season is a dire offence in the sportsman's
eye; and Balderston and I abused the unfortunate doctor roundly.
However, as it would have been sheer cruelty to allow a wounded animal
to get away, I ordered our _mahouts_ to pursue. We came up to the stag
in about half an hour; and I shot him through the heart. On measuring
the horns we discovered them to be thirty-three inches long, which
equalled the record Malay _sambhur_ I have mentioned.
About three weeks after we gave up the search for the rogue and were
satisfied that he had left our jungles, our three elephants were taken
out to graze in the forest by the coolies who assist the _mahouts_. It
was the duty of these men to remain with their charges; but, as it
happened to be pay-day in Buxa, they shackled the elephants' forelegs
with chains and left them to feed, while they themselves climbed up to
the fort for their salaries. On their return, several hours later, they
found Khartoum and Dundora browsing placidly on the trees; but Jhansi
had disappeared. She had contrived to slip her shackles, which lay on
the ground. The _mahouts_, searching for her, came on the track of a
herd of wild elephants, which had passed close to our tame ones. It was
conjectured that Jhansi, remembering her recent unpleasant adventure
with the rogue, had become alarmed at the sight of them, got rid of her
chain and fled away in an opposite direction. But, unlike the previous
occasion, she did not return to Santrabari. At the time I happened to be
on leave in Darjeeling; so Captain Balderston took our trained company
scouts to look for her. Each man carried his rifle and ball cartridge to
protect himself if necessary. It was well that they did; for on the
second day of their search one of them was wantonly attacked by a large
bear. A bullet from the sepoy's rifle taught it that it had not a
helpless woodcutter to deal with; and, howling with pain, it ran off.
On my return I borrowed elephants from the forest officer and started
out on a systematic hunt for the truant. As in the army an officer
generally has to pay for any article of Government property lost while
in his charge, I was afraid that I might be called upon to replace
Jhansi. The cost of a female elephant runs into hundreds of pounds; so I
did not relish the prospect. I telegraphed to the brigade headquarters
announcing Jhansi's loss; and when the reply came I opened it in fear
and trembling. It only referred me to a certain paragraph in the Army
Regulations for India. I consulted it at once, and to my relief found
that it merely directed me to advertise the loss of a Government
elephant in a newspaper. Not knowing which journal Jhansi was in the
habit of perusing, and wondering if I was supposed to word the
announcement in the phrasing of the agony column, "Come back to your
sorrowing friends and all will be forgiven," I eventually tried the
columns of a Calcutta daily. But it did not bring the truant back. As
month after month went by, I lost hope of ever seeing her again.
Whenever I heard that a _kheddah_ party had captured an elephant which
evidently had once been tame I sent off Jhansi's _mahout_ to inspect the
prisoner.
It often happens that animals which have been in captivity for some time
escape and take to the jungle again. If caught they are soon discovered
to have been domesticated; and _mahouts_ of lost elephants are sent to
view them, as their former charges will always recognise and obey them.
I heard of a case of attempted fraud, with a fatal ending, in this
connection. A _mahout_ falsely claimed an elephant as his and mounted
it. The animal, enraged at being handled by a stranger, dragged him off
her neck and stamped him to death before the horrified spectators could
intervene.
Eight months after Jhansi's disappearance I was informed by the
_mahouts_ that she had suddenly come out of the jungle and approached
the Peelkhana. She stood at a safe distance watching her former
comrades. When the men went towards her to secure her, she fled into the
jungle. I ordered the _mahouts_ to leave food in her stall and not to
attempt to interfere with her unless she came right into the stables.
Next day she made her appearance at feeding-time. The men took no notice
of her, placed the usual meal of rice and leaves before Dundora and
Khartoum and deposited her allowance in her "standing." Jhansi marched
boldly in and began to eat it; and the men crept in behind her and
slipped the iron shackles on her legs. She showed no resentment and
continued feeding unconcernedly, and afterwards she gave no trouble, did
her usual work, and seemed to feel no regret at the loss of her
freedom.
FOOTNOTES:
[3] He died in 1913, since this was written.
[4] A platform erected in a tree at a height above the ground.