Gambo and Etia had gone away through the jungle, and were to remain two days collecting berries and nuts, and then they were to come back to us. We were in a sorry plight--we were starving. We could not wait for them, for fear that, while waiting, the elephants would move off. What a pity! each of us might bag an elephant. By the way, should I say bag? When I was a boy I used to bag squirrel; that is to say, put them in my bag. It was about three o'clock when we came upon the tracks of the elephants. What a number of them must be together! "There must be at least twenty," whispered Malaouen. "There must be at least thirty," said Querlaouen. Malaouen insisted there were only twenty. Then I had my say, and I said I thought there were about twenty-five. We tracked them till five o'clock, and then concluded that we had better have our camp built where we were, rather than go too near to them. Being the dry season, we were not afraid of rain or tornadoes, so we chose a place to lie down, under a gigantic tree, as there we would only require a fire in front of us, our backs being protected by the tree, and the leopards would have less chance at us, and we would not have to build so many fires. In the evening we furbished our guns, chose the steel-pointed bullets we used for elephants, and then went to sleep on the dry ground. During the night we were awakened by a tremendous crashing of trees all round us, and we saw elephants bounding in the forest like wild bulls, tearing every thing before them, and then disappearing through the darkness. They seemed perfectly mad. Malaouen shouted, "Chaillie! the bashikouays are coming; let us make a big fire." He had hardly said this when I heard the tremendous roar of a male gorilla, then the piercing shrieks of his female, followed by the cries of a young gorilla. We immediately scattered the fire-wood we had lighted. It was high time, for the bashikouay were coming. The insects began flying over our heads. Happily, we were in the midst of a fortress of fire. In less than half an hour they had gone on their march, and the forest became as silent as the night itself. We had had a narrow escape. If it had not been for the timely warning of the elephants, we should have been obliged to clear out double-quick through that jungle in the middle of the night. It would have been no joke. "The bashikouay have driven away every thing before them. What will become of our elephants?" I said. "They may have gone a great distance, and it may take us five days to overtake them. I wish the bashikouay had gone somewhere else." We went to sleep again, and when we awoke it was broad daylight. The birds were singing, and the sun's rays peeped through the dark foliage.