07 Elephant Adventure (9 page)

Twice he tried to get to his feet and was pushed down again. Then he crawled on all fours to his tent and sneaked inside. He climbed up on to his camp-bed. It was good to lie down. He had had a big day.

He had no sooner stretched out than in between the flaps came Big Boy. Spotting Roger on the bed, he squeaked with pleasure and came to join him.

He flopped down on the edge of the bed, which promptly broke under the weight, and both elephant and boy went sprawling on the ground with the boy under the elephant.

Roger tried to call for help but the voice had been squeezed out of him. He wondered if his ribs would crack under the strain. Then the wriggling mass on top of him squirmed to one side and he was able to slip out from underneath it. He plunged out of the tent and the flaps

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Look out!’ yelled Hal who had just come on the scene. ‘You’ll get killed.’

Roger stood still and began to talk. He didn’t say anything in particular. He didn’t know whether he was speaking English or just making sounds - he only wanted Big Boy to hear his voice.

The oncoming tent stopped just in time to avoid running over him. It stood quivering and from it came an inquiring little squeaking sound.

Roger kept talking, quietly, soothingly. He stooped and slowly lifted the edge of the canvas.

A foot appeared - then a trembling trunk - finally a wild eye. Big Boy whimpered like the baby he was. Roger finished removing the canvas.

Now the little elephant was more determined than ever not to let Roger out of his sight. When the boy started to move away he felt a snake whip around his neck and shoulders. It was Big Boy’s trunk, and when Roger attempted to break loose the grip on his throat was so tight it made him choke.

‘Owl’ squealed Roger. ‘Let up on me.’

Hal was laughing. ‘Surely you don’t mind a little affection. Must be nice to have someone think so much of you.’

‘Hell kill me with kindness,’ Roger complained. ‘Ouch! Don’t stand there laughing. Get this beast off my neck.’

There’s only one tiling you can do,’ Hal said. ‘Give him something he loves more than he loves you.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Food.’

‘Okay - go ahead - feed him.’

Hal could not miss this chance of teasing his kid brother. He laughed.

‘Feed him yourself. He’s your baby.’

Just how Roger was going to feed his elephant while he was locked in its trunk, Hal did not explain. But Roger was not going to be so easily defeated.

‘You think 1 can’t do it,’ he said. ‘Joro, bring me some mopani leaves.’

He had noticed that elephants were fond of the leaves of this particular tree. There were many mopanis among the trees at the edge of the clearing. Joro broke off and brought a branch covered with tender green foliage. He laid it on the ground in front of Big Boy.

Roger felt the grip on his throat loosen. Big Boy uncoiled his trunk and lowered it. He passed the tip of his trunk over and through the leaves, loudly sniffing the pleasant odour.

But he didn’t seem to know what to do next He was too young to have learned how to take leaves or grass in the curl of his trunk and bring the food to his mouth. He was still used to being fed on his mother’s milk. And now there was no mother.

Except Mother Roger. But that mother was even more puzzled than the baby.

Then Roger thought of the cattle. The Watussi had a large herd of them and there must be plenty of milk in the village. He called Joro.

‘Get a pail from the supply truck. Go into the village and ask for a pailful of milk.’

When the milk was placed before him, Big Boy passed his trunk tip over it, sniffing as he had sniffed the leaves. Evidently he liked the smell. But it didn’t seem to occur to him to suck the milk up into his trunk and then squirt it into his mouth.

Roger was disgusted.

‘I think I got myself a pretty stupid elephant.’

‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that,’ Hal said. ‘When you were his age you hadn’t learned how to use a knife and fork. His trunk is his knife and fork. He just hasn’t learned yet how to feed himself with it.’

‘Well, I’ll get that milk down his throat or die in the attempt.’

Roger picked up the pail and raised it towards the elephant’s mouth. But the mouth was covered by the trunk.

‘Hoist up your trunk, you nut, if you want any milk.’

When this command was not obeyed, he said to Joro, ‘Joro, raise his trunk.’

Joro tried to do just that. The elephant raised his trunk, but only long enough to give Joro a good wallop with it As the trunk whipped back it struck the pail and completely emptied the contents over Joro, Big Boy, and Roger. Dripping with milk, they were a pretty sight.

‘Better give it up,’ Hal suggested.

‘Not on your life.’ Roger sent Joro for more milk. In the meantime he quieted the excited animal by stroking its cheek.

Suddenly the elephant calf noticed the hand dripping with sweet milk and got it into his mouth.

‘Look out,’ Hal warned. ‘He can smash your hand with one bite.’

But Roger resisted the temptation to jerk his hand out of that dangerous trap. He did not think Big Boy was going to bite him. Instead, the elephant greedily sucked the milky hand.

A great light broke over Roger. So that was the way to do it. The small elephant was used to sucking down his dinner. All Roger had to do was to keep dipping his hand into the milk and then putting it into the elephant’s mouth.

But that would take all day and all night A pailful would be needed, perhaps several, to satisfy the little beast. And Roger could tell by the feel of things that it would not be long before the powerful suction took the skin off his hand.

‘No, there must be an easier way, and quicker.

‘In the supply truck,’ he told Mali, ‘you’ll find a short piece of hose. Bring it here.’

When the hose came, Roger placed one end of it in the pail of milk Joro brought With his free hand he took the other end and slipped it into the mouth in the palm of the hand that was being sucked.

It worked like magic The sucking drew the milk up the hose into the eager mouth and the level of the milk in the pail fell rapidly. In a few minutes the pail was empty. It was at once replaced with a full pail. That went just as fast, and so did a third pail. The calf would have taken more, but Hal said, ‘that’s enough for now. Cow’s milk is different from what he’s used to. It may give him the tummy-ache.’

Roger withdrew his hand and the hose. Hal grinned.

‘I’ve got to hand it to you, kid. You have a way with these beasties. If I hear of any elephant that needs a baby-sitter, I’ll recommend you.’

This was high praise, coming from Hal, and Roger puffed with pride.

But soon his baby was also puffing, and not with pride. He was swelling up like a balloon. He began to whine and cry, very much like a human child.

‘What’s the matter with him?’ Roger asked his brother.

‘Wind on the stomach. It’s a common complaint of elephants, especially if they have eaten something unusual.’

The calf grew fatter and his wailings louder.

‘What do we do about it?’

‘Well, I remember that when you were a baby and had this trouble, mother used to burp you.’

‘You can’t expect me to remember that - how did she do it?’

‘Just laid you face down over her shoulder. Then you would cough up the wind.’

Roger looked at his thousand-pound baby. Imagine putting that over your shoulder! But something must be done for the suffering beast. He scowled at Hal

‘This is no time to get funny. Tell me what to do/

Hal shook his head. His father had always made him work out his own problems. It had made him think for himself. He must do the same for his younger brother.

‘You tell me,’ he said. ‘I’ve never burped an elephant. You can think of a way to do it as well as I can. Use your own head.’

That gave Roger an idea. All right, he would use his own head. He crawled under the crying calf. He pressed his head and shoulders against the blown-up belly. He pushed up with all his might. He held this position as long as he could. He couldn’t keep it up, it was too awkward and uncomfortable, and he was getting no results. That balloon needed more pressure than he could apply. Perhaps if he got more heads and shoulders…

Moro, Mali, Toto. Come in and help me.’

They came. Hal joined them, though he doubted that this sort of treatment would work. They all pushed and pushed and strained and sweated and accomplished nothing except to excite the little beast, which squealed more loudly and began dancing about, nearly stepping on those who were trying to help him.

The baby-burpers had to give it up. They came out, panting, wiping the sweat from their faces.

Roger was not ready to quit There must be a way. If he could only get something stronger than heads and shoulders under that elephant. Stronger and harder. His eye wandered over the camp and the village.

Just beyond the huts was a small lake fed by streams from the glaciers and the heavy rains. On its shore lay a raft.

It was not much of a raft - only four logs firmly lashed together. But it was hard and it was strong. Also, being four feet wide, it would fit nicely beneath Big Boy’s balloon.

‘Could we use that?’ he asked tall Chief Mumbo.

‘It belongs to my son,’ Mumbo said. He called the boy by name. ‘Bo.’

The boy called Bo stepped out of the crowd. He was a handsome lad, about Roger’s own age. His skin was a rich golden brown. His face had the fine Watussi look, his eyes were eager and his smile was open and pleasant Roger liked him at once.

‘Do you speak English?’

‘I try. My father teach me some.’

‘May we use your raft?’

‘Of course. You wish to go out on the lake? I will take you.’

‘Perhaps later. I’d like to go with you. That would be fun. But just now I want to see if your raft will help my elephant.’

Perhaps Bo did not quite understand how a raft could help an elephant - but he at once ordered some of the Watussi to bring the raft, They obeyed him as promptly and cheerfully as if be had been the chief himself. Evidently the tall folk were very fond of this boy and respected him. He would be the chief when his father died and he would make a good chief.

Six men came carrying the raft. Roger had them place it crosswise under the elephant

Hal could not understand what his kid brother was up to. But he was wise enough to let the boy work things out in his own way. It did look pretty crazy - an elephant on a raft!

Roger and his willing helper. Bo, tied a rope to each corner of the raft While some of the men held the raft up tight against the elephant’s stomach, Roger tied the four ropes together on Big Boy’s back. The little elephant didn’t know what to make of all this. He made angry rushes at some of the men. Anyone who came near him was apt to get poked with a sharp tusk.

Anyone except Roger, and Bo. He seemed to accept Bo as a friend. The chiefs son quietened him by petting his head and trunk while the ropes were being knotted together across the animal’s backbone.

Next Roger called for a tow chain. It was the same sort of chain that had been broken by the big elephant the day before. But it should be strong enough to handle this little half-tonner.

He snapped the end of the chain to the knot on the elephant’s back. Then he looked up, and now for the first time Hal guessed what was on his mind. Above his head was the heavy branch of a big tree.

Roger climbed on Big Boy’s back and passed the free end of the chain over the branch. Bo caught the end and drew it down until the chain was tight.

‘Fantastic!’ Hal muttered to himself. ‘What kids will think off

Roger called the strongest of his safari men and had them lay hold of the loose end of the chain and pull down. This should pull the raft up hard against the baby’s ballooned stomach. If they pulled hard enough the little animal would be lifted from the ground. So it would be just like a human baby across its mother’s shoulder - but os a large scale.

It was a bright idea, but Roger hadn’t reckoned on the weight of the baby. The men pulled and pulled until the veins stood out on, their foreheads. But they couldn’t raise the beast clear of the ground. All they did was to make it squeal more loudly. The shrieks of the uncomfortable little beast might have been heard a mile away.

‘It’s no good,’ Roger said. ‘Lay off.’

The men were only too happy to let go of the chain and sit down on the grass to rest. Some of the other safari men were laughing. So were some of the Watussi and the pygmies. Roger felt he had made a fool of himself.

He looked at Hal’ expecting to see him laughing too. But Hal was not even smiling.

‘Don’t give up,’ he said. ‘You’re on the right track. Just one little change - and you’ve got it’

‘What change?’

‘You’ll think of it’ And now he did smile.

Encouraged, Roger racked his brain. What could he do? Just one little change. What could it be? More pull on the chain - that was what he needed. But the men had done their best

Then the answer came to him. Of course - why hadn’t he thought of it before?

‘Mali, back that catching truck right in here. So the tail-board will be about five feet from Big Boy.’

When the truck was in position it was the work of a moment to make fast the chain.

Tut her in four-wheel drive,’ Roger said. ‘Now - go ahead - easy.’

The chain began to pass, a link at a time, over the branch. The raft snugged up under Big Boy’s body.

‘A little more. Gently. Still a bit more.’

One of the elephant’s feet left the ground. Then another and then a third. Finally all four feet were waving in the air.

Big Boy’s entire weight was now pressed against the four logs. No balloon could stand this. In one mighty belch Big Boy got rig of the bothersome wind.

The little elephant felt better at once. He stopped squealing and his squeals were replaced with a low growling sound.

‘He’s growling at me,’ Roger said. ‘That’s gratitude for you.’

‘He’s not growling,’ Hal said. ‘That’s the nearest he can come to a purr/