from the herd of the big animals who were somewhere in the jungle
eating leaves and bark.

But Umboo could not smell them. Nor could he smell any danger, and he
was glad of that.

All the smells that came to him were those of the jungle--the soft mud
smell, the odor of wet, green leaves and the smell of the falling
rain. All those smells Umboo knew and loved. But he could not smell
the other elephants, and if he could have done so he would have known
which way to walk to get to them.

Slowly he turned himself around, so as to smell each way the wind
blew, toward him and from him. But it was of no use. No elephant smell
came to him.

"I guess I am too far away," thought the elephant boy to himself. "I
must walk on farther. Then I'll come to where my mother is. I wish I
had not gone away from her."

Picking up the palm branch again, with the sweet nuts still fast to
it, Umboo started off once more through the mud and water. The rain
came down harder than ever, but he did not mind that. It washed his
skin of the dried mud and dust that had been on it some time, and when
it rained the bugs did not bite so much. Also the rain was not cold,
for it was pleasant and warm in the jungle. Only it was lonesome to
the elephant boy, who, never before, had been so long away from his
mother.

On he tramped, splashing this way and that through the puddles, wading