The jungle folk were a strange and varied company, ranging all the way from the black langur, the small monkey that swung, chattered, scolded, and swore in the tree-tops, to the great Bengal tiger that skulked in the underbrush and sought his meat wherever he could find it. The black langur was a noisy mischievous fellow, and his cry of "Wah! wah! wah!" followed by a "Hoo-oo, hoo-oo, hoo-oo!" was always ringing through the jungle. He tormented the birds and even followed after the great tiger, hooting and swearing at him from the tree-tops whenever he appeared in the jungle. But as all the jungle folk hated the tiger, no one cared. There are three sorts of tiger, all belonging to the same species, the game-killer, the cattle-killer, and the man-eater. The tiger most often seen in Baby Elephant's jungle was an enormous man-eater.
Baby Elephant, in time, learned to know all the jungle folk, some of whom he liked and some he hated, but he was curious about them all. His inquisitive trunk went poking about in many strange places and often got its owner into sad adventures. But, as Baby Elephant's hide was very thick, he could not be badly bitten, and as his bones were well covered with flesh, they did not break easily, and so he survived all his adventures. Besides, the fact that he was an elephant was in itself partial protection for him.
You have already heard of Baby Elephant's sorry adventure when he ran away from the spot where his mother had hidden him and was clawed by a young leopard. From that hour Baby Elephant hated all leopards, both spotted and black.
The leopard is a sleek and beautiful member of the cat family, about two-thirds the size of the American mountain lion. He is a great hunter, and is fond of lying upon an overhanging limb and falling like a thunderbolt upon his prey when it passes beneath. Woe to the black buck that comes within striking distance of this dread hunter!
Baby Elephant and his mother witnessed a thrilling battle one morning when Baby Elephant was about three months old. They had just come back from the plains where they had been feeding the night before and were lying in a dense portion of the jungle, sleeping with the rest of the herd, when they were aroused by a mighty commotion from Black Langur and his noisy company. Birds were also joining in the general alarm, so Baby Elephant's mother arose silently and stole away noiselessly through the jungle to see what it was all about. She did not intend that Baby Elephant should follow her, but he did. Presently they came to an open spot in the jungle which was quite free from trees, and there in the centre of this amphitheatre a terrible battle was going on. Baby Elephant's mother thrust her head out through the overhanging branches so she could see it and Baby Elephant himself watched from between her forelegs. The trees surrounding the battle-ground were fairly alive with monkeys, screaming and shouting and seemingly urging on the combatants.
Right in the middle of the amphitheatre Spotted Leopard and Baba-rusa, the wild boar, were engaged in deadly battle. This wild pig was quite different from the domestic pig. He was taller, rangier, and without any superfluous fat. His tusks were more fully developed, and his movements were like lightning. Altogether he is a desperate fighter and a match for any tiger. Spotted Leopard and Wild Boar were facing each other, sparring for position. The big cat would suddenly spring and seek to rake the boar across the face with deadly claws, but instead would meet Wild Boar's broad shoulder and perhaps get a rip in her side from his sharp tusks. Again and again the infuriated cat sprang but did little damage. Around and around Wild Boar she circled, trying to get behind him and jump upon his back, but he always faced her with his gleaming tusks. Faster and more furious the battle raged, while the monkeys screamed with delight. Twice the great cat got in a raking blow in Baba-rusa's face, but he slashed her in return each time. Finally the leopard became furious and sprang full upon Wild Boar's head. There was a wild squeal from the pig, and a yell of pain from the great cat, as the two combatants rolled upon the ground. Finally, with great agility, Wild Boar sprang to his feet and ripped the still prostrate leopard half the length of her belly. She struggled feebly for a few moments and then stretched out dead, while the badly lacerated boar limped away into the deep jungle, grunting with satisfaction.
Orang-outang, the monkey, whose name signifies "wild man" in the Malay language, also frequented Baby Elephant's jungle, although he is a native of Borneo, but he usually kept well to the swampy part down by the great river, for he lived in the water spruces which stood knee deep in the river. When Mrs. Wild Man was about to give birth to the young, the Orang-outangs built themselves a platform high up in the tree-tops. This was made by putting boughs across convenient crotches in the tree, and then covering the platform with fine twigs, making a comfortable nest. Here, the little Orang-outangs were born. Mr. Wild Man was a dangerous fellow. He had a broad back and chest like a prize-fighter; his arms, when spread out, measured ten feet, six inches, from finger-tip to finger-tip. They were so long that his hands hung down well below his knees. His legs were short and thick; his head was rather small, but his jaws were heavy and armed with very strong canine teeth. He was covered with coarse reddish-brown hair. The orang-outang is so strong that he can bend the ordinary inch iron bars in a wild-animal cage like jackstraws. Baby Elephant saw the Orang-outangs frequently when he and his mother came down to the great river to drink.
There were other creatures that came occasionally to Baby Elephant's jungle, but they were more often seen upon the great plains. These creatures always walked upon their hind legs, and some of them even carried the dreadful thunder-stick which could speak to the jungle people in such a terrible voice that they would lie down at its command and die. Most of these Malays were armed with spears and bows, which were not so deadly as the thunder-stick. But occasionally a sahib or white man came among them and he always carried a thunder-stick. Even the natives were very cunning in setting traps for the jungle folk, but it was not until Sahib Anderson from the United States came with fifty natives to Baby Elephant's jungle to capture wild animals for the dealers at Singapore that the real troubles for the jungle folk began.
When Sahib Anderson and his fifty jungle-beaters finally descended upon the jungle where the elephant herd usually spent the day resting and sleeping, great consternation reigned among the jungle folk.
Baby Elephant's mother, the leader of the herd and always on the watch, was the first to discover their coming. She arose and stood listening for several minutes. Baby Elephant himself followed her example. He usually did most of the things he saw his mother do. He did not detect the faint, far-away sounds, but the old elephant did. Her command to the herd for a silent and noiseless retreat was not given by any audible sound.
Probably the command was communicated from elephant to elephant by signs, or perhaps it was telepathic, but I think the former was the case. But certain it was that the great herd of perhaps sixty head began moving silently through the thick jungle, all going in the same direction, although they could not see each other. The silence with which this movement can be executed is astonishing to even a hunter who is versed in the ways of the wild. The adult elephants were ten feet in height and weighed around five tons each, yet they went almost without the breaking of a twig. This was partly due to the fact that their large feet are well cushioned, and all sounds smothered under them.
Mr. William T. Hornaday tells of coming upon a large herd in India. He was within fifty yards of the herd before he was discovered by a female elephant, one of the outposts. This elephant stood perfectly still watching the hunter for several minutes, while he in turn watched her. Finally she turned and slowly walked away into the jungle. The hunter found to his great astonishment that while she had been watching him she had probably given the command to the herd to retreat, and all had disappeared without making an audible sound.
With the coming of Sahib Anderson, the elephant herd moved five miles down the bank of the great river to a still more dense portion of the jungle.
Baba-rusa, the wild boar, next discovered the coming of the jungle hunters, and led his herd of twenty-five members five miles up the river.
The leopards, both the spotted and the black, skulked away and hid in the deepest portions of the jungle where they were comparatively safe. The black bear also fled, but Black Langur held his ground, although he kept at a safe distance in the tree-tops. Yet he did not disguise his presence, but set up a great din from time to time, so that the forest fairly rang with his "Wah! wah! wah! Hoo-oo, hoo-oo!"
Finally it became apparent to the monkeys that the hunters were pursuing Man-Eater, the great tiger, and followed him from one portion of the jungle to another. Ali hated the tiger, so this was well.
Soon Black Langur lost his fear of the men creatures and followed along in the tree-tops, watching the progress of the hunt. He also joined in it himself. He was too worthless for a native to waste a spear or a poisoned arrow upon, so he grinned down at them through the branches, his white-whiskered face screwed up into a diabolical grimace.
But Black Langur and his people were perfectly willing to follow along in the tree-tops and help the men rout out the tiger. So no matter where the tiger hid, these chattering, howling imps always spied him out and soon with their yell of "Wah! wah! wah! Hoo-oo, hoo-oo!" brought the hunters.
The truth was that the great man-eater had committed several terrible attacks upon a native village near by in open daylight. His ravages had become so bad that the Malays had besought Sahib Anderson to help them in the hunt. This he had consented to do. So all were after the great tiger. Several of the natives carried the deadly thunder-stick, although most were armed with spears or bows and arrows. But all were furious at the tiger and determined to get him at any cost.
Finally the great man-eater was driven from the jungle and took refuge upon a hillock on the plains. This particular hillock was thickly covered with small trees, so that he was well screened, and the jungle-beaters did not dare to go in after him. So the Sahib gave orders for the party to encamp in a circle around the hill. Very soon the men creatures started a circle of the red flower which they call fire.
The mighty tiger glaring at his pursuers from his stronghold saw the circle of the red flower dancing and leaping all about him, and a great fear filled him. For three days and nights they drove him deeper and deeper into his retreat. The men creatures constantly threw brands from the camp-fires into the unkindled circle where the great beast cowered.
Finally he was driven to his last hiding-place. He was gasping and choking with the smoke. His whiskers were singed off and he was tormented with thirst. At last the flames came so close that he made a break for freedom. But he had not taken two bounds when the thunder-stick of the Sahib spoke to him in terrible tones and he stretched out dead. His killing of men, women, and children was over, and the other animals also felt relieved.
Then the Sahib and the natives brought very heavy steel traps and set them in the favorite lair of his mate, and three days later she was caught. They let her stay in the traps for three days until she was very hungry, then brought a heavy cage and placed it close to her and threw a dead chicken in the farther end. The tigress dragged her traps into the cage. Then the hunters slipped up and secured her, and she was ready for her long trip to the American zoo or circus. As she was soon to have baby tigers, her capture was hailed with joy.
The next of the jungle folk to fall captive at the hands of the Sahib was Orang-outang, or Wild Man.
This Wild Man was walking along by the great river very early one morning, looking for his breakfast, when he espied a generous bunch of plantains dangling from a bush. He had never noticed any plantains there before, but suspicion did not even enter his mind. All the jungle folk were entirely unsuspicious of traps. So Orang-outang reached out greedily with his long arm. He had not noticed that a small tree four or five inches in diameter had been bent down above the plantains. Even if he had, this probably would not have frightened him. He had never had any experience with the tricks of men.
He seized the fruit and pulled vigorously upon it, when snap, swish, up sprang the tree, and a treacherous copper-wire noose which had been hidden in the bush caught Mr. Wild Man around his middle and swung him aloft. He was left ten feet from the ground, dangling, thrashing, and howling with rage. Even this would not have been final had it not been for the peculiar way in which he had been caught. For as luck would have it, the noose pinioned one of his strong arms to his side when he swung up. Otherwise he would have climbed the noose to the tree above and been free in ten seconds. But here he was held powerless with his strong right arm pinned to his side.
His roars of rage soon brought Black Langur chattering in the tops of the trees near by.
Wild Man's rage was terrible, but all he could do was to roar and thrash. Finally, after half an hour, he wore out his great strength and the jungle folk thought him dead. A few hours later, the Sahib and his men took him down and put him in a small rattan cage.
The cage was made so small that Wild Man could not get a purchase on its bars, otherwise he would have torn it to bits, and he was a prisoner. He was then used as a decoy and his mate was caught in the same manner.
Some of the traps which Sahib Anderson and his Malay hunters used were very simple, but very effective. For who of the jungle folk has ever heard of birdlime? This is a very sticky substance, a sort of gum, from a tree. It is more sticky than mucilage and more adhesive than glue.
But it is very effective, if the poor jungle folk get into it. Even large animals are captured by its use.
Baby Elephant and his mother were feeding one day in the very heart of the jungle when Black Leopard came walking stealthily down one of the jungle trails. As Baby Elephant was with his mother he was not afraid. So he stood watching Black Leopard curiously as he came.
Presently the great cat began stepping very daintily. Then it gave vent to a series of spits and sprang into the air with a loud yowl, and it rolled over and over on the ground.
Baby Elephant was very curious about Black Leopard, and he instinctively knew that he was in trouble. But a very queer thing had happened to the leopard. When he had first begun to step daintily, it was because the leaves and dirt upon the ground were sticking to his paws. Now as he rolled over and over on the ground he was covered with leaves and small twigs.
The faster he spun, the worse his plight became. Presently he stopped and began licking his paws, but his tongue stuck to his paws, so that he could hardly pull it off. This made him frantic, and he began whirling about again. For hours he alternately licked himself and rolled and leapt. Finally he lay down utterly exhausted. So when the Sahib came by he could rope him without much difficulty and put him in a strong cage. Thus it was, one by one, that the jungle folk found their way into the Sahib's cages.
Strange and beautifully colored tropical birds were also caught with the fatal bird lime which was smeared upon their favorite roosts.
A bird would alight upon a harmless-looking branch only to find when he tried to fly away that his feet stuck to it. He would struggle and flap, and his cries soon brought others. These in turn alighted by his side and were also caught and held fast. There they stayed flapping miserably until the Sahib or some of his helpers took them away.
Black Langur had thought he was immune. No one could capture him.
Yet he guessed wrong. For soon a number of large-mouthed bottles appeared in the jungle. Each bottle held a rag which had been soaked with sugar. We know that monkeys are very fond of sugar, so soon a black imp would put his small hand into the mouth of the bottle for the sugar-soaked rag. When he had seized the rag he could not pull out his hand. He did not have sense enough to let go the rag, so there he stuck till the Sahib's men came for him. The bottle was securely tied to a tree.
Then the men would tickle a large nerve on the monkey's elbow, or as the children say, would touch his crazy-bone, and he would let go the rag and his hand would come out of the bottle. But he was then a prisoner.
And, strange to say, the monkey did not learn the secret of this simple trap.
But it was not until the Sahib made his mesh corrals and made drives of the jungles that he secured large numbers of the jungle folk.
These corrals were made of rattan, which was woven in and out at some point where the jungle was very dense. The rattans were woven in this manner until they had made a network perhaps fifty feet in diameter, with two wings extending out from it. It was much like a seine net in which fish are caught. When everything was in readiness, the jungle-beaters would form in a half—circle and beat the jungle for a mile, driving all before them. In this way they caught Black Buck and his mate, two beautiful plain antelopes. They also caught a baby tapir and its mother. This is a peculiar animal with a strange snout, something like the elephant's. It is dark above and light below, and the baby tapir had stripes on his sides.
Civet-cats and other small animals were caught. These were taken from the corrals in a very clever manner. A piece of bamboo was cut six feet long. This was hollow, and a long piece of doubled rattan was passed through it. The man held the two ends of the rattan in his right hand, and the end of the bamboo in his left. He let the loop upon the rattan stick through the end of the bamboo for a foot or so. Just enough to slip over the head of the civet-cat. It was then drawn tight over the small cat's neck and its head held against the end of the bamboo while it was lifted from the corral and put into a cage.
Thus it was that one by one the jungle folk saw their numbers diminish and their companions go away in Sahib Anderson's strong cages. But where they went or what became of them they did not know. All they knew was that they never saw them again.
Nearly all came under the Sahib's spell but the great elephant herd, and this mighty herd was composed of such giants that no one would have even dreamed that Sahib could capture them. But who can tell what a Sahib can do, when he has such strange powers with the thunder-stick! Although Baby Elephant and his mother and all the rest of the great herd of sixty elephants felt very secure, yet their turn was to come. The Sahib was making his plans. Soon he would reach out with his mighty arm, which seems so weak, yet is so terrible, and capture nearly all the herd. For elephants were no more to the Sahib than were the rest of the jungle folk. He was the master of them all. When he said, "Come," they came, even from the heart of the jungle. Yes, the power of the Sahib was terrible!