Toward it they ran, not knowing that the
trap was waiting for them.
Into it they rushed, the noise behind them sounding louder and louder
now, with more guns shooting and more clappers clapping. Into the
quiet of the stockade rushed Tusker, Mr. and Mrs. Stumptail, Umboo,
Keedah and all the others.
And then, when they were safely in the trap, a great big door of logs,
as strong as the fence of trees of which the stockade was built, fell
with a bang behind them, shutting the elephants in. Then the shooting
and clapping stopped.
For a moment it was quiet in the jungle, the only sound being the wind
blowing in the trees, or the rubbing of the rough-skinned elephants'
bodies, one against the other, making a queer, shuffling noise. The
big animals crowded together in the middle of the stockade trap, and
waited for what would happen next.
"Is this the salt spring, Mother?" asked Umboo.
"No," she sadly answered. "It is not. This is dreadful!"
"What has happened?" asked Umboo. "And why do Tusker and the other big
elephants look so scared?"
"Because we are caught in a trap," answered the boy elephant's mother.
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