Four years later the Romans had become perfectly familiar with elephant warfare; and Curius Dentalus organized his men especially to demoralize the elephants, ordering them to attack the animals with burning torches in one hand, and sharp swords in the other. This plan was successful, and was aided by an unforeseen accident. An elephant calf accompanied its mother upon the field of battle; and, becoming wounded early in the fight, its roars so enraged its mother, and demoralized the others, that they charged, and threw the troops of Pyrrhus into complete disorder. They were finally captured by the Romans, and four led in triumph to Rome,—the first ever taken there. To show what vague notions of the elephant the Romans had, they called the great creatures Lucanian oxen; and, according to Pliny, the Roman writers, in general, gave them this name, probably because they first saw them in Lucania. King Pyrrhus was extremely unfortunate in the management of his elephants. At the siege of Argos, when his men had battered in the gates of the town, the mahouts lost control of the beasts in the excitement, and they attempted to rush through the low gates; but the tall towers struck them, and forced them back in great disorder, and many of their own soldiers and masters were trampled under foot, and killed. In describing this event, Plutarch relates that one of the elephants exhibited remarkable courage and affection for its rider; keeping a large number of enemies at bay when its master was dismounted, finally taking him in its trunk, and removing him to a place of safety. The animal doubtless received some instruction from its master. The old writers were fond of accrediting to the elephant many more virtues, courage, generosity, and self-sacrifice, than they seem to possess to-day; and, undoubtedly, they often gave the animals credit for spontaneous actions, when they were really obeying a command of their mahout, or driver. I have referred particularly to this and the opinions of Sanderson in the chapter devoted to the intelligence of the elephant. Plutarch and Ælian both record the story of an elephant of Porus that drew darts from its master’s body. Such may have been the case; but I think, if true, it was at the direct order of Porus, and not actuated by compassion, as the old authors would have us believe.