With a mixture of vague alarm and curiosity we now listened to the accounts of wild elephants in these woods, though in the morning we had heard the same stories with indifference and incredulity; while the old hands of the party, who had felt rather piqued at our distrust of their marvellous narrations, pointed out with malicious satisfaction the recent foot-marks of these undisputed and formidable lords of the soil.

Sir Samuel and Lady Hood, with some of his staff, had left their palankeens and walked forward on the path, which barely admitted two people abreast, in order to enjoy the exceeding beauty of the Indian jungle, lighted up with the blaze of our torches.  Suddenly the headmost musalgee or torch-bearer paused, listened, and then retreated precipitately, upon the hinder ranks.  Nothing was said by them, and nothing could we hear in the woods to explain the cause of this panic, which, however, soon became general amongst the natives.  The bearers set down the palankeens, and in an instant they, as well as all the coolies, took to their heels, while the torches flitted about in the forest in a style which, had there been no apprehension, might have been acknowledged as very picturesque.  Sir Samuel not only stood fast himself, but ordered all of us to do so likewise—­remarking, that, until we knew what to fly from, we might only be making matters worse by moving.  Presently the loud crashing of the underwood of the forest, and a heavy thumping on the ground, gave abundant evidence that a wild elephant was close to us.

Some of the natives told us afterwards that they had seen the monster; but, although we peered into the forest with all our eyes, none of us could honestly take upon us to say we actually saw him—­though assuredly we heard his footsteps as he broke his way through the jungle.  Robinson Crusoe and his wolves in Tartary came to our recollection; and upon our asking the natives what effect fires really had on wild beasts, they all assured us that hardly any animal, however ferocious, would come up to a light, and that we were safe so long as we kept near a torch.  This might be consolatory reasoning for the musalgees, each of whom carried a light, but it afforded little security to us, who, it was evident, would again be left in the dark should an elephant cross our path a second time.  The Admiral, therefore, and by his desire all of us, made an attempt to carry the torches ourselves.  But we were soon so plaguily smoked and scorched for our pains, that we rested contented with the risk, and the bearers having gradually crept back to the palankeens, we once more moved on.  In spite of all that had passed, some of the party remained so doggedly sceptical, from being habitually distrustful of all things wonderful, that they declared the whole affair a mere matter of panic, and dared to swear there could not be found an elephant within fifty miles of us.  Scarcely had this opinion, so injurious to the honours and glories of our late adventure, been uttered, when the commander-in-chief, who, as usual, was leading the way, snatched a light from one of the men’s hands, and waved it over what the geologists call a “recent deposit,” half the size of a wheelbarrow, and out-rivalling in its column of smoke the muggiest torch in the line.