CHAPTER X.

ACCIDENTS CAUSED HIS KEEPER BY JUMBO; ALSO, HOW HE SAVED HIS KEEPER’S LIFE.

Once after arriving at Jersey City from the West on the steam cars, from which place we were about to go by float to Brooklyn, we had to be shunted off the main line onto a switch to let the mail train pass. I was in Jumbo’s car, and he was standing up, I was on the off side from the train, about the middle of Jumbo’s body, when up came the puffing locomotive, snorting and whistling, rushing past from behind, and as Jumbo could not turn around in his car to see what was up, he just gave one lurch from the train side when the steam went through the grating of his car, and came over, catching me quite tightly between his side and the side of the car. He gave me such a squeeze that I don’t want any more like it. I have always been on my guard ever since. I was slightly hurt, but it was not of much consequence.

This occurred at first when we commenced riding in steam cars, a thing Jumbo and I were not used to.

Jumbo was awfully sorry, and grieved over my absence like a little girl left without its mamma in the company of strangers.

On our way from the city of New York, going down to the boat, Jumbo somehow or other put his forefoot down on my big toe and smashed it. I am inclined to think it was my own fault, as I was gazing about me, admiring the immense crowds that were swaying to and fro on each side of us, hardly leaving room to walk, and I suppose my attention being for the moment engaged I probably put my toe under his foot. He couldn’t say, “you should put your feet in your pocket,” but he looked awfully annoyed at himself as he saw me limping along, and, when I looked up at him, his eyes said more than an ample apology from a human being.

Last year in our winter quarters I was busy making Jumbo’s bed, when he, trying to move around so that I could fix things nice, gave a tug at the immense cable by which he is chained to the earth, a tug that cut my shin bone. I thought for the moment my leg was broken, but it turned out merely a severe gash, which did not necessitate my leaving him.

On this occasion Jumbo turned round on hearing my exclamation of pain, and as much as said, “What’s up now?” Jumbo knew he had not touched me, and of course he never saw the chain strike me, as he had his back to me.

I have told my readers of the various accidents which happened to me in Jumbo’s company, and now, in justice to Jumbo, I shall tell you of how he repaid me for all the suffering he has ever caused me by saving my life, and doubtless the lives of many others.

The incident occurred in Ottumwa, Iowa, on October 16, 1883 (I shall never forget that date). It was just after the tents had been erected, and everything was arranged in order for the afternoon performance. Crowds of people were already in the main tent, while hundreds besieged the ticket-office. I was in Jumbo’s special tent, when all at once a noise, like the bursting of a thunder-storm, caused me to look around in alarm. It was made by thirty elephants stampeding. They had broken their chains and were smashing everything in their way. In a moment they rushed into our tent. If death ever stared me in the face, it did at that moment. On came the black mass of mad animals, and I thought there was no escape from being crushed beneath their heavy feet, when Jumbo came to the rescue.

He twined his trunk about my body like a flash, and placed me out of harm’s way between his legs; then stood firmly and stretched out his trunk, as rigid as the limb of a large tree, and permitted not an elephant to get past it. Again and again the crowd of maddened creatures tried to force its way, but Jumbo remained firm and determined until the keepers secured the entire lot. Had Jumbo not prevented the elephants from going out of the enclosure, the loss of life would no doubt have been great.