Indeed there is no path, the elephants making one for
themselves, and when once a herd starts off it can hardly ever be
caught by a hunter on foot.
"Do you think any of us will be shot?" asked Umboo, as he shuffled
along beside his mother. "How does it feel to be shot?"
"My! But you ask a lot of questions," said Mrs. Stumptail; and I think
Umboo was like a lot of boys and girls I know. But then if you don't
ask questions how are you ever going to find out anything?
"I can tell you how it feels to be shot," said a middle-aged elephant,
who was hurrying along, next to Mr. Stumptail. "It hurts very much,
Umboo! It hurts very much, and worse than a whole lot of big bugs
biting you at once."
"Were you ever shot?" asked Umboo.
"Indeed I was," answered the elephant, whose name was Bango, called so
because he used to bang big trees down with his head. "I was shot
twice."
"Tell me about it," said Umboo.
"It was some years ago," went on Bango. "I was with another herd, and
we were eating away in the jungle. All at once I heard a noise like a
little clap of thunder, and I felt a sharp pain in my head.
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