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The Baby — thing instinctively wandered up into the enclosure
A tense ancj along to the stockade to find mother where he
could hear her voice, I suppose, among the others. If
it stands there by the stockade gate, I thought, it's the
end. He'll surely be crushed in the first out-rush.
The tension during the final clearance of the runway under our machans I can hardly describe. A fifteen minute call before the gate was opened. Are you ready? Yes. Frannie and I were on a low machan. I was warned to draw my dangling feet up for fear the big cow might spot me and try to mount our tree. She had tried to climb the stockade; she had learned to reach up with her trunk to the stockade machans. Our machan was firmly built into the branches of the tree. I was glad of that. Most of them hang dizzily out from the bare trunk, slung from iron stays fixed to the tree by spikes.
The elephants came out in three sections, rushing, not stopping at the water edge, right out into the deep crossing. Frannie and I, while snapping frantically, watched anxiously for the baby. He wasn't with the first section. There was a tiny one with the second section, but Frannie said no, it wasn't ours. I watched it, wee thing, bravely swimming, its little head a black, bobbing dot in the water getting further and further left behind by the big ones. Oh, baby, baby! But just then, as though at last the dam had burst, the final section, the main herd with the big
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