"Well, if I am lost," thought Umboo to himself, as he held the branch
of palm nuts, "I must see if I can not find the way home." For though
elephants have no real home, traveling as they do to and fro in the
jungle so much, Umboo called "home" the place where he had last seen
his mother and the rest of the herd.
Since Umboo could not see a long way through the trees, as he might
have done if he had eyes as sharp and bright as a big vulture bird, he
had to do what most elephants do--smell. So he raised his trunk in the
air, dropping the palm branch to the ground, and sniffed as hard as he
could. He wanted to smell the elephant smell--the odor that would come
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.
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