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Page 41
CHAPTER XV
LIONS IN THE NIGHT
Shouting, screaming, imploring their deities in general, and the
white men in particular for protection, the band of frightened
natives broke and ran through the jungle, caring little where they
went so long as they escaped the awful terror of the pursuing herd
of maddened elephants. Behind them came Tom Swift and the others,
for it were folly to stop in the path of the infuriated brutes.
"Our only chance is to get on their flank and try to turn them!"
yelled Mr. Durban. "We may beat them in getting to the clearing, for
the trail is narrow. Run, everybody!"
No one needed his excited advice to cause them to hurry. They
scudded along, Mr. Damon's cap falling off in his haste. But he did
not stop to pick it up.
The hunters had one advantage. They were on a narrow but well-
cleared trail through the jungle, which led from the village where
they were encamped, to another, several miles away. This trail was
too small for the elephants, and, indeed, had to be taken in single
file by the travelers.
But it prevented the elephants making the same speed as did our
friends, for the jungle, at this point, consisted of heavy trees,
which halted the progress of even the strongest of the powerful
beasts. True, they could force aside the frail underbrush and the
small trees, but the others impeded their progress.
"We'll get there ahead of them!" cried Tom. "Have you got your rifle
in working order yet, Mr. Durban?"
"No, something has broken, I fear. We'll have to depend on your
electric gun, Tom. Have you many charges left?"
"A dozen or so. But Ned and the others have plenty of ammunition."
"Don't count--on--me!" panted Mr. Damon, who was well-nigh
breathless from the run. "I--can't--aim--straight--any--more!"
"I'll give 'em a few more bullets!" declared Mr. Anderson.
The fleeing natives were now almost lost to sight, for they could
travel through the jungle, ignoring the trail, at high speed. They
were almost like snakes or animals in this respect. Their one
thought was to get to their village, and, if possible, protect their
huts and fields of grain from annihilation by the elephants.
Behind our friends, trumpeting, bellowing and crashing came the
pachyderms. They seemed to be gaining, and Tom, looking back, saw
one big brute emerge upon the trail, and follow that.
"I've got to stop him, or some of the others will do the same,"
thought the young inventor. He halted and fired quickly. The
elephant seemed to melt away, and Tom with regret, saw a pair of
fine tusks broken to bits. "I used too heavy a charge," he murmured,
as he took up the retreat again.
In a few minutes the party of hunters, who were now playing more in
the role of the hunted, came out into the open. They could hear the
natives beating on their big hollow tree drums, and on tom-toms,
while the witch-doctors and medicine men were chanting weird songs
to drive the elephants away.
But the beasts came on. One by one they emerged from the jungle,
until the herd was gathered together again in a compact mass. Then,
under the leadership of some big bulls, they advanced. It seemed as
if they knew what they were doing, and were determined to revenge
themselves by trampling the natives' huts under their ponderous
feet.
But Tom and the others were not idle. Taking a position off to one
side, the young inventor began pouring a fusillade of the electric
bullets into the mass of slate-colored bodies. Mr. Anderson was also
firing, and Ned, who had gotten over some of his excitement, was
also doing execution. Mr. Durban, after vainly trying to get his
rifle to work, cast it aside. "Here! Let me take your gun!" he cried
to Mr. Damon, who, panting from the run, was sitting beneath a tree.
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