They had killed him they said.
They had very likely met him staggering under his wound and had finished
him off. Mr. K---was not likely to give up his game in this fashion.
So walking threateningly to the Curumbers he compelled them to retire,
and called to his Burghers at the same time. The Curumbers only said,
"Just you DARE to touch that elephant," and retired. Mr. K---thereupon
cut out the remaining tusk himself, and slinging both on a pole with no
little trouble, made his men carry them. He took all the blame on
himself, showed them that they did not touch them, and finally declared
he would stay there all night rather than lose the tusks. The idea of a
night near the Mulu Curumbers was too much for the fears of the
Burghers, and they finally took up the pole and tusks and walked home.
From that day those men, all but one who probably carried the gun,
sickened, walked about like spectres, doomed, pale and ghastly, and
before the month was out all were dead men, with the one exception!
A few months ago, at the village of Ebanaud, a few miles from this, a
fearful tragedy was enacted.
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