The Complete Short Stories of Mark Twain (Illustrated). Mark Twain
The inspector said:
“I wish I could communicate with them and order them north, but that is impossible. A detective only visits a telegraph office to send his report; then he is off again, and you don’t know where to put your hand on him.”
Now came this despatch:
Bridgeport, Ct.,
12.15.
Barnum offers rate of $4,000 a year for exclusive privilege of using elephant as traveling advertising medium from now till detectives find him. Wants to paste circus-posters on him. Desires immediate answer.
Boggs, Detective.
“That is perfectly absurd!” I exclaimed.
“Of course it is,” said the inspector. “Evidently Mr. Barnum, who thinks he is so sharp, does not know me – but I know him.”
Then he dictated this answer to the despatch:
Mr. Barnum’s offer declined. Make it $7,000 or nothing.
Chief Blunt.
“There. We shall not have to wait long for an answer. Mr. Barnum is not at home; he is in the telegraph office – it is his way when he has business on hand. Inside of three—”
Done. – P. T. Barnum.
So interrupted the clicking telegraphic instrument. Before I could make a comment upon this extraordinary episode, the following despatch carried my thoughts into another and very distressing channel:
Bolivia, N. Y.,
12.50.
Elephant arrived here from the south and passed through toward the forest at 11.50, dispersing a funeral on the way, and diminishing the mourners by two. Citizens fired some small cannon-balls into him, and they fled. Detective Burke and I arrived ten minutes later, from the north, but mistook some excavations for footprints, and so lost a good deal of time; but at last we struck the right trail and followed it to the woods. We then got down on our hands and knees and continued to keep a sharp eye on the track, and so shadowed it into the brush. Burke was in advance. Unfortunately the animal had stopped to rest; therefore, Burke having his head down, intent upon the track, butted up against the elephant’s hind legs before he was aware of his vicinity. Burke instantly arose to his feet, seized the tail, and exclaimed joyfully, “I claim the re—” but got no further, for a single blow of the huge trunk laid the brave fellow’s fragments low in death. I fled rearward, and the elephant turned and shadowed me to the edge of the wood, making tremendous speed, and I should inevitably have been lost, but that the remains of the funeral providentially intervened again and diverted his attention. I have just learned that nothing of that funeral is now left; but this is no loss, for there is abundance of material for another. Meantime, the elephant has disappeared again.
Mulrooney, Detective.
We heard no news except from the diligent and confident detectives scattered about New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Delaware, and Virginia – who were all following fresh and encouraging clues – until shortly after 2 P.M., when this telegram came:
Baxter Center,
2.15.
Elephant been here, plastered over with circus-bills, and broke up a revival, striking down and damaging many who were on the point of entering upon a better life. Citizens penned him up and established a guard. When Detective Brown and I arrived, some time after, we entered inclosure and proceeded to identify elephant by photograph and description. All masks tallied exactly except one, which we could not see – the boil-scar under armpit. To make sure, Brown crept under to look, and was immediately brained – that is, head crushed and destroyed, though nothing issued from debris. All fled – so did elephant, striking right and left with much effect. He escaped, but left bold blood-track from cannon-wounds. Rediscovery certain. He broke southward, through a dense forest.
Brent, Detective.
That was the last telegram. At nightfall a fog shut down which was so dense that objects but three feet away could not be discerned. This lasted all night. The ferry-boats and even the omnibuses had to stop running.
Chapter III.
Next morning the papers were as full of detective theories as before; they had all our tragic facts in detail also, and a great many more which they had received from their telegraphic correspondents. Column after column was occupied, a third of its way down, with glaring head-lines, which it made my heart sick to read. Their general tone was like this:
The White Elephant at Large! He moves upon his Fatal March! Whole Villages deserted by their Fright-Stricken Occupants! Pale Terror goes before Him, Death and Devastation follow after! After these, the Detectives! Barns destroyed, Factories gutted, Harvests devoured, Public Assemblages dispersed, accompanied by Scenes of Carnage impossible to Describe! Theories of thirty-four of the most distinguished Detectives on the Forces! Theory of Chief Blunt!
“There!” said Inspector Blunt, almost betrayed into excitement, “this is magnificent! This is the greatest windfall that any detective organization ever had. The fame of it will travel to the ends of the earth, and endure to the end of time, and my name with it.”
But there was no joy for me. I felt as if I had committed all those red crimes, and that the elephant was only my irresponsible agent. And how the list had grown! In one place he had “interfered with an election and killed five repeaters.” He had followed this act with the destruction of two pool fellows, named O’Donohue and McFlannigan, who had “found a refuge in the home of the oppressed of all lands only the day before, and were in the act of exercising for the first time the noble right of American citizens at the polls, when stricken down by the relentless hand of the Scourge of Siam.” In another, he had “found a crazy sensation-preacher preparing his next season’s heroic attacks on the dance, the theater, and other things which can’t strike back, and had stepped on him.” And in still another place he had “killed a lightning-rod agent.” And so the list went on, growing redder and redder, and more and more heartbreaking. Sixty persons had been killed, and two hundred and forty wounded. All the accounts bore just testimony to the activity and devotion of the detectives, and all closed with the remark that “three hundred thousand citizen; and four detectives saw the dread creature, and two of the latter he destroyed.”
I dreaded to hear the telegraphic instrument begin to click again. By and by the messages began to pour in, but I was happily disappointed in they nature. It was soon apparent that all trace of the elephant was lost. The fog had enabled him to search out a good hiding-place unobserved. Telegrams from the most absurdly distant points reported that a dim vast mass had been glimpsed there through the fog at such and such an hour, and was “undoubtedly the elephant.” This dim vast mass had been glimpsed in New Haven, in New Jersey, in Pennsylvania, in interior New York, in Brooklyn, and even in the city of New York itself! But in all cases the dim vast mass had vanished quickly and left no trace. Every detective of the large force scattered over this huge extent of country sent his hourly report, and each and every one of them had a clue, and was shadowing something, and was hot upon the heels of it.
But the day passed without other result.
The next day the same.
The next just the same.
The newspaper reports began to grow monotonous with facts that amounted to nothing, clues which led to nothing, and theories which had nearly exhausted the elements which surprise and delight and dazzle.
By advice of the inspector I doubled the reward.
Four more dull days followed. Then came a bitter blow to the poor, hard-working detectives – the journalists declined to print their theories, and coldly said, “Give us a rest.”
Two weeks after the elephant’s disappearance I raised the reward to seventy-five thousand dollars by the inspector’s advice. It was a great sum, but I felt that I