Adventure stories; Voyages around the world -- Fiction
They soon reached a small hut, near which, enclosed within some high
palings, was the animal in question. An Indian came out of the hut,
and, at their request, conducted them within the enclosure. The
elephant, which its owner had reared, not for a beast of burden, but
for warlike purposes, was half domesticated. The Indian had begun
already, by often irritating him, and feeding him every three months on
sugar and butter, to impart to him a ferocity not in his nature, this
method being often employed by those who train the Indian elephants for
battle. Happily, however, for Mr. Fogg, the animal’s instruction in
this direction had not gone far, and the elephant still preserved his
natural gentleness. Kiouni—this was the name of the beast—could
doubtless travel rapidly for a long time, and, in default of any other
means of conveyance, Mr. Fogg resolved to hire him. But elephants are
far from cheap in India, where they are becoming scarce, the males,
which alone are suitable for circus shows, are much sought, especially
as but few of them are domesticated. When therefore Mr. Fogg proposed
to the Indian to hire Kiouni, he refused point-blank. Mr. Fogg
persisted, offering the excessive sum of ten pounds an hour for the
loan of the beast to Allahabad. Refused. Twenty pounds? Refused also.
Forty pounds? Still refused. Passepartout jumped at each advance; but
the Indian declined to be tempted. Yet the offer was an alluring one,
for, supposing it took the elephant fifteen hours to reach Allahabad,
his owner would receive no less than six hundred pounds sterling.
Phileas Fogg, without getting in the least flurried, then proposed to
purchase the animal outright, and at first offered a thousand pounds
for him. The Indian, perhaps thinking he was going to make a great
bargain, still refused.
Sir Francis Cromarty took Mr. Fogg aside, and begged him to reflect
before he went any further; to which that gentleman replied that he was
not in the habit of acting rashly, that a bet of twenty thousand pounds
was at stake, that the elephant was absolutely necessary to him, and
that he would secure him if he had to pay twenty times his value.
Returning to the Indian, whose small, sharp eyes, glistening with
avarice, betrayed that with him it was only a question of how great a
price he could obtain. Mr. Fogg offered first twelve hundred, then
fifteen hundred, eighteen hundred, two thousand pounds. Passepartout,
usually so rubicund, was fairly white with suspense.
At two thousand pounds the Indian yielded.
“What a price, good heavens!” cried Passepartout, “for an elephant.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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