“So the elephant has turned westward,” said the inspector.  “However, he will not escape, for my men are scattered all over that region.”

The next telegram said: 

                         GLOVER’S, 11.15
Just arrived.  Village deserted, except sick and aged.  Elephant passed through three-quarters of an hour ago.  The anti-temperance mass-meeting was in session; he put his trunk in at a window and washed it out with water from cistern.  Some swallowed it—­since dead; several drowned.  Detectives Cross and O’Shaughnessy were passing through town, but going south—­so missed elephant.  Whole region for many miles around in terror —­people flying from their homes.  Wherever they turn they meet elephant, and many are killed. 
                         Brant, Detective.

I could have shed tears, this havoc so distressed me.  But the inspector only said: 

“You see—­we are closing in on him.  He feels our presence; he has turned eastward again.”

Yet further troublous news was in store for us.  The telegraph brought this: 

                         HOGANSPORT, 12.19. 
     Just arrived.  Elephant passed through half an hour ago, creating
     wildest fright and excitement.  Elephant raged around streets; two
     plumbers going by, killed one—­other escaped.  Regret general. 
                         O’FLAHERTY, Detective.

“Now he is right in the midst of my men,” said the inspector.  “Nothing can save him.”

A succession of telegrams came from detectives who were scattered through New Jersey and Pennsylvania, and who were following clues consisting of ravaged barns, factories, and Sunday-school libraries, with high hopes-hopes amounting to certainties, indeed.  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—­”