William Murray Graydon

Mr. Menzies' Baby Elephant

A traveler who goes around the world necessarily sees a great deal. This ruby ring which I wear on my finger was purchased at Colombo, the capital of Ceylon, and it always reminds me of a very amusing thing that occurred during my brief stay on that island.

As I was strolling alone one day, whom should I meet but an old friend, Mr. Menzies, whose acquaintance I had made in Calcutta. He was there on business at the time, and had since returned to Ceylon.

He owned a tea and coffee plantation a mile or two north of Colombo, and he insisted on taking me home with him over night. We drove out in a stylish English dog-cart, arriving shortly before luncheon time. The bungalow stood in the center of spacious grounds, which were inclosed by a low stone wall.

The tea and coffee fields were quite a distance off, for the immediate neighborhood was the most fashionable suburb of villas of wealthy English people.

The roads were hard and level, and were planted at intervals with just such lampposts as we have in America.

Mr. Menzies introduced me to his wife, and to his son Donald, a fine lad of 16; and after luncheon we all strolled out on the lawn to see Toby, the baby elephant.

Toby was tethered to a stout tree by a 10-foot rope. He was a pretty big baby, but full of frolicsome gambols.

After a long drive among the surrounding plantations, we returned to the bungalow in time to dress for dinner, and had barely seated ourselves at the table, which was waited upon by Hindoo servants in white linen, when a babel of angry barks and shrill trumpeting rose outside.

Rushing to the windows we saw Toby circling round and round his tree in a vain attempt to get hold of a brown and white dog who was retreating backward with an agility that kept him out of danger.

Toby was in dead earnest, while the dog evidently thought the affair a huge joke.

Several of the servants had already rushed out of the bungalow, but before they could reach the spot Toby had come to the end of his tether. Not having sense enough to go in the opposite direction and unwind himself, he reared and plunged so desperately that the rope snapped.

The moment he was free the cunning rogue's fright vanished. Turning tail on the approaching servants he shuffled rapidly across the lawn, trumpeting with delight as he went. "That means a stubborn chase," cried my host, as he snatched a couple of heavy walking sticks and tossed one to his son.

They rushed from the room, and after hesitating a few seconds between a sense of propriety and a desire to see the fun, I snatched another stick, stammered a hasty excuse to my hostess, and followed.

I caught up with them just in time to see Toby dash full tilt at the broad gate, which speedily became a mass of broken pillars and rails.

As we clambered over the ruins we were joined by more of the bungalow servants, several of whom carried coils of thick rope, and off we all went down the smooth road, calling to Toby to stop.

Ladies and children watched the procession from neighboring bungalows as we swept by, and I have no doubt they were highly amused.

Mr. Menzies, Donald and I were in advance, and as we ran the tails of our dress coats streamed out behind us. Donald and I were hatless, but Mr. Menzies wore a canvas sun-helmet, which looked ridiculously out of place with his starched shirt bosom.

As for Toby, he was in high spirits, and paid not the slightest attention to the pursuit behind him. He shuffled along just fast enough to prevent our gaining on him.

Every now and then he lifted his trunk and gave a tremendous roar. It being the dinner hour the road was fortunately clear of pedestrians and vehicles.

This sort of thing soon proved too monotonous for Toby, and so he turned off into a side avenue.

As we swept around the corner after him we saw a light carriage not far ahead. It contained two ladies and a native groom. At sight of the vehicle Toby pretended to be in a tremendous rage. He galloped forward to meet it. swinging his trunk from side to side, and trumpeting shrilly.

The ladies screamed, but they had sufficient presence of mind to turn the horses and drive back the way they came.

A moment later they wheeled into a broad gateway, and Toby reached the spot just as the groom banged the gate shut in his face.

This angered the elephant, and he twined his trunk around the top rail with the evident intention of forcing his way in. But when he saw how near we were to him he shuffled off again.

Toby was going at a pretty fast pace now, and from time to time he glanced wickedly back at us, as much as to say:

"It's no use, old fellow; I'm out for a lark and I don't intend to come home just yet awhile."

Then, in the exuberance of his spirits, he would halt, lie down and roll on his back once or twice and kick up a cloud of yellow dust that settled thickly on our dress suits as we came dashing through it.

"Confound that rascal!" growled Mr Menzies. "He's bent on making all the trouble he can. I'll have a pretty bill for damages on my hands!"

"There he goes!" shouted Donald, "straight for Mr. Forbes' bungalow."

Sure enough, Toby had vanished through an open gate. He was trampling down shrubs and flower beds when we surged in after him, but, seeing us, he instantly forsook that diversion and galloped across the grounds, sheering to one side of the bungalow.

We numbered two dozen or more by this time, having been augmented along the way by laborers from the neighboring estates, a few Europeans, two Malay print-sellers and a greasy Afghan fakir.

Our shouts brought Mr. Forbes out of his bungalow -- a red-faced gentleman in white flannels, who shook his fist at the procession and used some very emphatic language.

There was no time to explain. On we rushed after Toby, whose high spirits were evidently on the increase.

A little beyond the bungalow he met the Cingalese postboy, who was taking a short cut across the grounds to the house. He charged on him with a terrific scream, and the terror-stricken lad bolted for the nearest tree, scattering his letters and papers in every direction.

He pulled himself into the branches just in time to dodge a vicious fillip of the elephant's trunk. Toby sniffed at the mail and then trampled it under foot and shuffled on.

"We're sure to corner him on the other side of the grounds," cried Donald.

Mr. Menzies seemed of the same mind, for he shouted to the rope bearers to hurry up.

There was no need of their services, however. Toby went clumsily over the low wall, and into the grounds of the adjoining estate, which were of large extent. The bungalow was some distance off, and was hidden by trees.

As we ourselves scaled the wall in hot pursuit of the rascal, we heard faint strains of music.

"Worse and worse," groaned Mr. Menzies as he mopped the dirt and perspiration from his face. "There will be a pretty mess if the brute steers for the house. This is the day that Col. Hardy was to give a dinner to some friends from England."

Sure enough, Toby headed in the direction of the music. I really believe that he knew all about the dinner party, and was determined to be one of the guests.

We strained our utmost to overtake him or head him off, but it was of no use.

As we burst out from the trees, with Toby a scant 20 feet in the lead, we saw a pretty sight on the open lawn. At a long table shaded by an awning of striped canvas sat a dozen ladies and gentlemen, the latter in full dress military uniform. Servants were flitting to and fro with dishes, and two Scotch Highlanders, stationed near by were playing lively strains on their bagpipes.

A few yards away was the bungalow gayly trimmed with flags and decorations in honor of the occasion.

The music had quite drowned the noise of our approach, and the diners had no suspicion of what was coming until Toby charged at them with hoarse trumpeting.

Such yelling and confusion and panic I never heard in my life. The bagpipers fell over each other and the servants in their haste to escape. The guests tumbled off their chairs, some diving under the table, others running for the shelter of the bungalow. Col Hardy himself tried to climb a palm tree.

But the table was Toby's objective point. He whisked it over in a trice and trumpeted with delight as he trampled the linen and silver, and gorged himself with such viands as took his fancy.

When we closed in on him, and tried to throw noosed ropes over his head, he got angry and charged through our ranks.

A union jack suspended between two trees caught on his ears, and with this patriotic decoration for a collar he made off at full speed through the grounds.

By this time Col. Hardy had rushed into the bungalow for a rifle, and had the elephant been within range he would have shot him -- and very deservedly, I must confess.

Mr. Menzies tried to pacify the angry officer by apologies and explanations, but he only raved and stormed the more, and ordered us off the grounds with dreadful threats.

So we departed as speedily as possible from the scene of havoc and destruction, expecting nothing less than a repetition of the catastrophe ere long.

But now Toby took a westward direction and led us over scrub, jungle and tea fields for considerably more than a mile. We caught up with him on the sea coast, where he was rolling on his back at the edge of the surf.

He made off at once, and headed inland to a shallow lagoon. Here he rolled and floundered to his heart's content, and when some venturesome natives waded toward him he squirted torrents of water at them until they fled to the shore.

But he grew tired of bathing after a while, and took refuge in a piece of thick woods. By a little strategy we surrounded the place and cornered the runaway against a big tree, where he showed fight and held the rope men at bay.

Finally the Afghan fakir crept up to the tree on the opposite side, climbed into the branches, and managed to get a noose under the elephant's hind leg, and then the other natives quickly threw one over his head.

That did the business, and Mr. Toby was marched triumphantly home by moonlight with the aid of several stout ropes.

When I left for Colombo the next day he was locked in the stables with stout chains clamped to his fore and hind legs, and for all I know he is there yet.