An elephant never trots nor really runs according to our conception of the terms; he shuffles, scarcely lifting his feet off the ground.
The mahout yelled and belabored the elephant on the skull.

Rajah did not mind this beating at all.

Whatever his idea was, he evidently proposed to see it fulfilled.
Cunningly he dashed under some branches, sweeping the mahout off his neck.

The branches, with a crash as of musketry, struck the howdah, but it held, thanks to the stoutness of the belly bands and the care with which they had been adjusted round the huge barrel.
Bruce stood up, appalled.

For a time he was incapable of movement.
Short as the time was, it was enough to give Rajah such headway as he needed.