The two guns were discharged as one. The elephant was almost up to Blake, crashing through the bushes. But the men had fired straight, true, and just in time. The heavy bullets halted the elephant long enough for the lad to make good his escape. Crashing to its knees the big beast tried to rise. “Give him another!” yelled the former soldier, and again they shot together. The elephant crashed over on its side. Blake had been saved in the nick of time. The other elephants, shrilly trumpeting, made off in the jungle and Blake’s camera, with its rare film, was rescued from the bushes where it had dropped. CHAPTER XX DOWN THE RIVER “Well, shall we chance it?” asked Sergeant Hotchkiss, as he stood on the bank of a jungle river. “It seems to be the only thing to do,” spoke Mr. Duncan. “Our information is to the effect that the native camp we wish to reach is down in this direction, and the river offers the best route.” “Except that we haven’t any boats,” put in Joe. “But we can make a raft,” suggested his chum. “And that’s what we’ll have to do,” said C. C. Piper; “though it may capsize--no it won’t either!” he cried, with a sudden change of feeling. “A raft will be just the thing!” This was several days after making the pictures of the elephants feeding, when the shot in time had prevented the big bull from taking vengeance on Blake. The latter’s ankle, sprained when he toppled out of the tree, was almost well again, though it had necessitated a stay in camp of two days, and for two days after that the lad was carried in a sort of litter by some of the porters. The slain elephant had a pair of magnificent tusks and they were taken along as trophies. As for the meat, nothing in that line came amiss to the Africans, and there was a feast that lasted for several days. The boys had their first taste of elephant trunk soup, roasted heart and the delicacy the sergeant had told them about--elephant’s foot. Joe and Blake voted it very good. Then had come a period of traveling through the jungle, during which they had suffered much. The insect pests were very troublesome, ticks and mosquitoes abounding. Then one of the porters was bitten by a snake of a poisonous variety, but fortunately not so virulent that the man died. He was far from well, however. The weather had been bad and one rainy night followed another, the thunder and lightning being terrifying. Then, too, one of the porters was mauled by a leopard that sprang out of a tree on him as he was going to the spring for water. The big cat was shot by Blake, but the man suffered very much and was incapable of any hard work. Then they had come to the banks of a fairly large river down which, according to native information, was an African village that might be the home of the kidnappers.