The Child's Elephant Read Online Free Page B

nuzzled at Bat with its long fumbling nose.
    He backed away slowly and the baby elephant tried again to rise, managing to follow him for a few staggering steps before once more collapsing. Bat knelt down beside it. Its trunk fiddled weakly in the palm of his hand. Where was its mother? It would die withouther, he thought. He could already see the blue mist in its wide baby stare. And then, with a sickening thump, he remembered the dead elephant. Was that how the poachers had managed to single out so mighty a creature? Had she been lagging behind to protect her newborn?
    Bat would have known what to do with the orphaned calf of one of his cattle. He could coax even the sickliest to suck milk from a bucket by letting them latch on to two of his fingers. But they had little blunt muzzles that could reach into a pail. A creature with a trunk would not learn to drink that way; and this tiny animal must be thirsty, he thought. He was parched himself. It must be so terribly thirsty. It had probably been wandering all night alone on the savannah. It was a miracle that it wasn’t already dead. Bat ran to fetch his calabash and, filling it with water, he held it out tentatively. The elephant ignored it. Bat tried opening its mouth, curling its trunk back over its head so that the damp, pink triangle of its under-lip was exposed. He poured the water in; but most of it dribbled straight back out again.
    Kila wandered over. She snuffled at the baby with her damp, breathy nose; shunting it gently with the tips of her horns. The little animal shifted, its trunk drifting uncertainly in the direction of her udder. It could smell her sweet milk, but still it couldn’t drink.
    Bat emptied the last of his water over the little animal’s ears. At least that would cool it. Then, hunkering down by the cow, he filled his calabash with milk. He tried to pour that down the baby’s throat next. The pink tongue wriggled as it tasted the warmth. Bat tried again:it wasn’t very successful, but the boy kept on going, tiny bit by tiny bit, until all of the milk had either been swallowed or spilled.
    He didn’t notice how quickly the afternoon was passing and the sun was already very low in the sky when, hearing a faint cry in the distance, he looked up and saw his new friend Amuka. So she had kept her promise! He had hoped so much that she would; and now, scrambling to his feet, he bounded towards her.
    ‘Come! Come and see! Come quickly!’ he shouted. He grabbed her by the wrist, gabbling out his story of the poachers as he pulled her into a run. ‘And they killed the mother . . . and there’s a baby . . . I’ve found a baby,’ he gasped, the tale tumbling out in broken snatches between big puffs of breath. She would know what to do, he was hoping. Between them they might be able to come up with a plan.
    He watched Muka’s eyes widening in wonderment as, dropping to her knees, she stretched out one hesitant hand for the creature as though to check for herself that his story had really been true. No, she was not imagining it. Pity for the tiny animal welled up in her heart. They couldn’t just leave it. They had to find a way to help.
    ‘If we don’t take it home, the hyenas will be back for it,’ she murmured. ‘Somehow, between us, we have to help it to walk.’ She glanced about for a moment as if searching for the answer. ‘Perhaps it will follow the cows,’ she suggested. Bat nodded, and leaping to his feet he ran swiftly through the grasses, sounding thelow whistles that would set his herd trotting, bunching closer together as they started for the track.
    Then, joining forces, he and Muka started trying to get the elephant to stand. Muka, using all her strength, shoved it from behind, while Bat got underneath it and pushed upwards as hard as he could. It staggered onto its wobbly feet and stood there for a few moments, swaying gently, before, step by tottering step, it set off in the direction of the cows. The two children