“But, on the whole,” decided Joe, when they had talked the matter over, “I think we’re on the right road.” The others agreed with him, and so they kept on. It was not easy traveling. Most of the way lay through a dense jungle, with only a narrow native trail, which necessitated going in single file. Occasionally they would cross a plain, and this was always welcome. Once they had to ford a river. Then came a time when Blake came down with a touch of jungle fever and they had to stay a week in one camp to nurse him. But he recovered, and once more they were under way. One afternoon, after fairly cutting their way through a tangled growth of jungle vines, in order to shorten the trail a bit and get to one that a native chief had told them about, Joe, who was in advance, came to what seemed like a road cut through the forest. “It looks as if we were coming to something!” he cried. “This looks good to me. Let’s take this path, even if it is longer.” Sergeant Hotchkiss came running up. Taking one look at the swath through the jungle he cried out: “Boys, it’s an elephant trail, and a big, fresh one, too! We’ll follow that and, if you have luck, you’ll get some rare pictures. Hustle up, everybody!” CHAPTER XVIII SOME RARE PICTURES Happy One sent back the call to the porters in the rear, and at the news of elephants there were mingled expressions. While some of the black men chanted of the power of the mighty beast, seemingly somewhat afraid of it, others declaimed of the sure-shooting abilities of the white men, and improvised chants concerning the amount of meat they would soon have to feast upon. “And there sure is some meat on an elephant,” said the former soldier. “I hope we don’t have to kill any; but, if we do, there’ll be a feast such as you never saw before.” “Is elephant meat good to eat?” asked Joe. “The natives will eat almost anything,” said the sergeant, “as long as it’s meat. But, of course, there are some parts of an elephant better than another. The heart is as good eating as I ever enjoyed, and the trunk makes fine soup. Elephant’s feet, properly cooked, are delicious.” “Elephant’s feet!” cried Blake. “I’ve eaten pig’s trotters, but elephant’s----” “The way to do it,” said the former soldier, “is to make a hole in the ground, build a fire in it, get a lot of hot embers ready, and bury the foot in them. Go off for the day, and when you come back the meat inside the foot will be roasted to a turn and no beef or mutton can equal it. But we may not get an elephant.” “We’ll make a hard try for some pictures, anyhow,” said Blake. “Let’s get our cameras ready, Joe.” “Oh, you’ve got plenty of time,” said the sergeant. “Though this trail is comparatively fresh, still a herd of elephants can travel much faster than you would think, merely to look at them. They are a good many miles off now, and, though they may stop to feed, we can hardly come up to them to-day. It may take three days.”