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And there her nose struck the sand still wet and thick with Kazan's blood. She knew it was the blood of her mate, for the scent of him was all about her in the sand, mingled with the man-smell of Sandy McTrigger. She sniffed the trail of his body to the edge of the stream, where Sandy had dragged him to the canoe. She found the fallen tree to which he had been tied.
Stumptail. "That must be the danger of which Tusker spoke. Be quiet and listen to what he is saying." The old elephant leader had to trumpet through his trunk as loudly as he could to be heard above the noise of the guns and clappers. "There is danger, O Elephants!" cried Tusker. "The man-smell is all around us, and the terrible noises are behind, and on both sides of us.
He stopped again, and this time the wind brought their scent to him full and strong. It was a scent that tightened every muscle in his great body and set strange fires burning in him like raging furnaces. With the dogs came also the man-smell!
He didn't dare remain still, lest the hunter should creep up within shooting distance. There was only one direction in which it was safe for Lightfoot to move, and that was the direction from which the Merry Little Breezes were blowing. So long as they brought him none of the dreaded man-smell, he knew that he was safe.
The hunter might be behind him probably he was but ahead of him, so long as the Merry Little Breezes were blowing in his face and brought no man-smell, was safety. Lightfoot the Deer traveled on through the Green Forest, straight ahead in the direction from which the Merry Little Breezes were blowing.
Tusker raised his trunk again, and took a long breath through it. He was smelling to see in which direction the danger of the man-smell lay, and he would turn aside from that. "The smell comes from the South," he said to the other elephants. "We must march to the North! Come!" So he led the way through the jungle, Umboo and the other elephants following.
Why did it make no sound? Even a dog would have done more than this creature, for the dog would have shown its fangs; it would have snarled, it would have fought. But this thing that was man did nothing. And a great, slow doubt swept through Thor's massive head. Was it really this shrinking, harmless, terrified thing that had hurt him? He smelled the man-smell. It was thick.
The man-smell was strong, and this they did not like, for to them it betokened only danger. Yet mingled with the man-smell was the smell of chicken and rabbit meat, and this pleased them, for they were hungry. "Let us both fire together," suggested Shep. "Each of us ought to bring down at least one. You can fire to the right and I'll fire to the left of the line." "All right."
They went to Savannah, to the live-oaks and palmettoes and quiet old squares. But she did not rest. Always she brooded about the unleashed brutality of their first night on the steamer, the strong, inescapable man-smell of his neck and shoulders, the boisterous jokes he kept telling her. He insisted on their staying at a commercial hotel at Savannah.
With his hot tongue he lapped frequently at the cool water of the creek, and even more frequently he turned half about, and sniffed the wind. He knew that the man-smell and the strange thunder and the still more inexplicable lightning lay behind him. All night he had been on guard, and he was cautious now. For a particular hurt Thor knew of no particular remedy.
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