"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, any 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.