Adventure Magazine Cover, June 20, 1925 — page 192: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

174 It sounded like a mighty wind rushing in to fill some suddenly created vacuum. Then he moved steadily off, his big ears flopping, his head moving majestically up and down. Save for an occasional crack- ing as he wantonly stripped branches from the trees, and an intermittent voiding of wind, the bull’s progress was noiseless. As noiseless as that of the puny mortals who followed dangerously close at his heels. Soon Isaacs and his men came to the edge of a large clearing which sloped gently to a muddy pool. And there they saw a herd of cows with their calves and young bull elephants wallowing happily in the mud. Other elephants, old bulls all of them though none were as big as the one Isaacs’ men had been. following, were leaving the bush at various points and converging on the pool. ’ As each one joined the herd, he was greeted by the shrill, effeminate trumpeting of the cows. One young bull ventured to dispute the way to the big bull of the herd and the two massive heads came together with a thunderous impact. The cows squealed, a baby calf ran and sought protection under its mother’s belly, its trunk curling up, seeking at this moment of fear, courage from its mother’s milk; the other bulls huddled together and looked sagely on. But the fight was already over; that one impact was enough for the young- ster and he turned sheepishly away, broke into a shuffling trot and squealed with fear when the big bull trumpted and feinted to charge him. The victor rocked back and forth—the . others moved uneasily and there was an air of unrest over the whole herd until the big tusker’s ears flopped lazily and turning his back to the others got down on his knees and wallowed luxuriously. Isaacs moved impatiently forward, but stopped as a grizzled native placed a re- straining hand on his arm. “We must wait, master,’ the old one said. ‘This is their place and we can not hurry them from it. When the moon rises will be time enough. See! The others wait.” The gray beard and the natives who were with him squatted down on their haunches. Isaacs looked to the right and the left; he sensed rather than saw that this side of the clearing was fringed by his men, all waiting patiently, all realizing that to go slow is often the best speed, realizing that Adventure when elephants want to play nothing short of a stampede will move them. And a stampede was not at this time in keeping with Isaacs’ plan. So he shrugged his shoulders resignedly and squatted down beside the gray beard. ‘The spirits are with us, master, the charm works,” the old one said, whispering as if he were afraid the big beast would hear and understand him. “Some day—very soon—the madness will come upon the big tusker and then the herd will not rest until he is killed. I thought the time had come when he fought the young one. If it had, all our cunning would have been to no avail.” Time passed, the sun set. The western. sky flamed red—then darkness came. Down by the water the tragedies and comedies of elephant life continued; to the waiting men came gargantuan sounds as if the earth labored; in the far distance a low rumbling noise as of thunder sounded and an elephant trumpted in shrill derision of the lion’s hunting note; the distant rum- bling faded away; astrong breeze, laden with the pungent odor of elephants, stung the men’s nostrils and died down again as quickly asit hadrisen. | Behind in the bush, a heavy tread, the smashing down of bushes, a frightened, bleating note, alarmed the men. A gigan- tic black shadow loomed up out of the dark- ness and rushed by them, nearly treading on Isaacs. He cursed softly then laughed as the gray beard explained— “Tt Is a young cow—she was lost. They are laughing at her.” From the darkness below sounded gur- gling, chuckling noises. The moon rose swiftly making of the landscape an etching in black and white. Shadows moved and mysteriously vanished; the elephants down in the hollow milled about uneasily. In the cold, white light they appeared like fantastic shapes of a nightmare. Their fanning ears looked like wings, their searching tusks like gigantic snakes. Listen! THEY lined up suddenly facing the line of beaters, their right forelegs swinging in an attitude of KY. indecision. Several of the bulls advanced slowly, stopped, a few paces more, stopped. The biggest tusker of them ail COMIGDIOOKSEEO