Vladdok had killed two keepers, besides badly wounding a couple of spectators in Memphis, when he yielded to one of his vicious moods.  He had been fired upon and wounded more times than any one could remember, and Mr. Blarcom, who always traveled with his show, had been on the point more than once of ordering his destruction; but he was of such large size and possessed such extraordinary intelligence, that he constituted the main attraction of the exhibition and he hesitated, well aware that sooner or later, the wicked fellow would die “with his boots on.”

It was after an afternoon performance in one of the Western States that Vladdok indulged in his last rampage.  His sagacious keeper had come to understand the animal so well, that he knew the outbreak was coming.  While Vladdok was unusually tractable and obedient, there was a dangerous glitter in his small eyes, and an occasional nervous movement of his head, which proved that he was only biding his time and waiting for the grand chance to present itself.

Fortunately, he did not rebel until after the exhibition was over, and the crowds had departed.  Then, with a fierce trumpeting and one vast shiver of his enormous bulk, he made a dash which snapped his chains like so much whip-cord and went through the side of the tent as though it were cardboard.

On his wild charge, which set all the rest of the animals in a panic, he reached for his keeper, who with prodding spear and shouts, interposed himself in his path and tried to check him.  But the man’s inimitable dexterity and good fortune enabled him to dodge the beast and escape by a hair’s breadth.  The next minute, the elephant reached the public highway, down which he swung awkwardly but swiftly, on an excursion that was destined to be the most tragic in his whole career.

The first object on which he vented his wrath was a team of horses, driven by a farmer, whose wife was sitting beside him on the front seat.  Neither they nor the team knew their danger until the avalanche of fury was upon them.  The animals screamed in an agony of fright, and were rearing and plunging, when Vladdok grasped one with his trunk, lifted him in the air and dashed him to death.  The other broke loose and plunged off at such headlong speed, that the elephant followed him only a few paces, when he turned to attack the man and woman.

But they were nowhere in sight, and, with a trumpet of disgust, he wheeled about, and turning from the highway, took to the woods.

The couple were saved by a singular occurrence.  The violent rearing and backing of the horses overturned the wagon body, and the farmer and his better half were caught beneath it, before they could escape.  They had sense enough to remain quiet, until the brute left, when they crept out, none the worse for their mishap.

“Consarn his pictur!” exclaimed the husband; “if that don’t beat all creation!  I allers said that circuses and shows was a burnin’ shame, and now I know it; I’ll make the owner of that elephant pay ten thousand dollars for the damage he done us, for he scart you and me so bad Betsy, that we’ll never grow another inch.”