turned tail and ran--ran crashing and stumbling through the forest at
a terrific speed, making the air resound with his trumpeting.

Had it not been that the dense forest was suddenly broken by a river,
it would indeed have gone hard with him.

For an instant Rataplan thought he would stop--for, although elephants
are beautiful swimmers, they are not particularly fond of the sport--
but only for a moment; for the herd was close behind him and pressing
him, and the leader could almost reach him with his trunk. Into the
water dashed Rataplan, throwing up a mountain of spray which sprinkled
the whole herd, and for a few moments he was lost to sight.

After the spray cleared away his huge form, with his trunk held high
in the air, could be seen swimming easily and steadily towards the
other side, and after a little conference with the herd the leader
decided to let him go. But, as Rataplan knew only too well, woe betide
him if ever he met that herd again.

And so it was that Rataplan, the Rogue, congratulated himself that so
far he had never been caught, neither had any other elephant been able
to hurt him.

But on this particular day he was very miserable and very lonely, and
he had a restless, uneasy, wild feeling which inclined him to
something daring. He was sick and tired of trying to catch the silly
things that carried fire; he was tired of the forest; he was tired of
himself. He felt more irritable, restless and evil-natured than ever,
and as he stood there, swaying heavily from side to side and waving
his trunk about him, he was a very miserable elephant indeed.