Chapter 6: Mastodon and Will-O'-the Wisps

Bearwarden’s bullet struck the mammoth in the shoulder, while Ayrault’s aim was farther back. As the balls exploded, a half-barrelful of flesh and hide was shot from each, leaving two gaping holes. Instantly he rushed among the trees, making his course known for some time by his roars. As he turned, Bearwarden fired again, but the hall flew over him, blowing off the top of a tree.

“Now for the chase!” said Ayrault. “There would be no excuse for losing him.”

Quickly pushing their raft to shore and securing it to the bank, the three jumped off. Thanks to their rubber boots and galvanic outfits which automatically kept them charged, they were as spry as they would have been on earth. The ground all about them, and in a strip twelve feet wide where the mammoth had gone, was torn up, and the vegetation trodden down. Following this trail, they struck back into the woods, where in places the gloom cast by the thick foliage was so dense that there was a mere twilight, startling as they went numbers of birds of grey and sombre plumage, whose necks and heads, and the sounds they uttered, were so reptilian that the three terrestrials believed they must also possess poison fangs.

“The most highly developed things we have seen here,” said Bearwarden, “are the flowers and fireflies, most of the birds and amphibians being simply loathsome.”

As they proceeded they found tracks of blood, which were rapidly attracting swarms of the reptile birds and snakes, which, however, as a rule, fled at their approach.

“I wonder what can have caused that mammoth to move so fast, and to have seemed so ill at ease?” said the doctor. “His motive certainly was not thirst, for he did not approach the water in a direct line, neither did he drink on reaching it. One would think nothing short of an earthquake or a land-slide could trouble him.”

“There can be no land-slide here,” said Ayrault, for the country is too flat.”

“And after yesterday’s eruptions,” added Bearwarden, “it would seem as though the volcanoes could have scarcely enough steam left to make trouble.”

The blood-tracks, continuing to become fresher, showed them they were nearing the game, when suddenly the trail took a sharp turn to the right, even returning towards the lake. A little farther it took another sharp turn, then followed a series of doublings, while still farther the ground was completely denuded of trees, its torn-up and trampled condition and the enormous amount of still warm blood showing how terrific a battle had just taken place.

While they looked about they saw what appeared to be the trunk of a tree about four feet in diameter and six feet long, with a slight crook. On coming closer, they recognized in it one of the forefeet of the mammoth, cut as cleanly as though with a knife from the leg just above the ankle, and still warm. A little farther they found the huge trunk cut to slivers, and, just beyond, the body of the unfortunate beast with three of its feet gone, and the thick hide cut and slashed like so much paper. It still breathed, and Ayrault, who had a tender heart, sent an explosive ball into its skull, which ended its suffering.

The three hunters then surveyed the scene. The largest and most powerful beast they had believed could exist lay before them dead, not from the bite of a snake or any other poison, but from mechanical injuries of which those they had inflicted formed but a very small part, and literally cut to pieces.

“I am curious to see the animal,” said Cortlandt, “capable of doing this, though nothing short of dynamite bombs would protect us from him.”

“As he has not stopped to eat his victim,” said Bearwarden, “it is fair to suppose he is not carnivorous, and so must have had some other motive than hunger in making the attack; unless we can suppose that our approach frightened him away, which, with such power as he must possess, seems unlikely. Let us see,” he continued, “parts of two legs remain unaccounted for. Perhaps, on account of their shape, he has been able the more easily to carry or roll them off, for we know that elephant foot makes a capital dish.”

“From the way you talk,” said Cortlandt, “one would suppose you attributed this to men. The Goliath we picture to ourselves would be a child compared to the man that could cut through these legs, though the necessity of believing him to have merely great size does not disprove his existence here. I think it probable we shall find this is the work of some animal with incisors of su with incisors of such power as it is difficult for us to conceive of.”

“There is no indication here of teeth,” said Bearwarden, “each foot being taken off with a clean cut. Besides, we are coming to believe that man existed on earth during the greater part, if not the whole, of our Carboniferous period.”

“We must reserve our decision pending further evidence,” said Cortlandt.

“I vote we take the heart,” said Ayrault, “and cook it, since otherwise the mammoth will be devoured before our eyes.”

While Bearwarden and Ayrault delved for this, Cortlandt, with some difficulty, parted the mammoth’s lips and examined the teeth. “From the conical projections on the molars,” said he, “this should be classed rather as a mastodon than as a mammoth.”

When the huge heart was secured, Bearwarden arranged slices on sharpened sticks, while Ayrault set about starting a fire. He had to use Cortlandt’s gun to clear the dry wood of snakes, which, attracted doubtless by the dead mastodon, came in such numbers that they covered the ground, while huge pterodactyls, more venomous-looking than the reptiles, hovered about the opening above.

Arranging a double line of electric wires in a circle about the mastodon and themselves, they sat down and did justice to the meal, with appetites that might have dismayed the waiting throng. Whenever a snake’s head came in contact with one wire, while his tail touched the other, he gave a spasmodic leap and fell back dead. If he happened to fall across the wires, lie immediately began to sizzle, a cloud of smoke arose, and lie was reduced to ashes.

“Any time that we are short of mastodon or other good game,” said Ayrault, “we need not hunger if we are not above grilled snake.”

All laughed at this, and Bearwarden, drawing a whiskey-flask from his pocket, passed it to his friends.

“When we rig our fishing-tackle,” he continued, “and have fresh fish for dinner, an entree of rattlesnake, roast mastodon for the piece de resistance, and begin the whole with turtle soup and clams, of which there must be plenty on the ocean beach, we shall want to stay here the rest of our lives.”

“I suspect we shall have to,” replied Ayrault “for we shall become so like Thanksgiving turkeys that the Callisto’s door will be too small for us.”

While they sat and talked, the flowers and plants about them softly began their song, and, as a visual accompaniment, the fire-flies they had not before noticed twinkled through the forest.

“My goodness! “ exclaimed Cortlandt, “how time goes here! We started to get breakfast, and now it’s growing dark.”

Hastily cutting some thick but tender slices from the mastodon, and impaling them with the remains of the heart on a sharpened stake, they took up the wires, and the battery that had been supplying the current, and retraced their steps by the way they had come. Their rubber-lined cowhide boots protected them from all but the largest snakes, and as these were for the most part already enjoying their gorge, they trampled with impunity on those that remained in their path. When they had covered about half the distance to the raft, a huge boa-constrictor, which they had mistaken for a branch, fell upon Cortlandt, pinioning his arms and bearing him to the ground. Dropping their loads, Bearwarden and Ayrault threw themselves upon the monster with their hunting-knives with such vim that in a few seconds it beat a hasty retreat, leaving, as it did so, a wake of phosphorescent light.