He was tearing away at the leaves, and filling his capacious stomach.
As soon as Swartboy recovered the control over his tongue, he ejaculated in a hurried whisper:-- "Pas op! (take care!) baas Bloom,--hab good care--don't go near um--he da skellum ole klow.

My footy! he wicked!--I know de ole bull duyvel." By this volley of queer phrases, Swartboy meant to caution his master against rashly approaching the elephant, as he knew him to be one of the wicked sort--in short, a "rogue." How Swartboy knew this would appear a mystery, as there were no particular marks about the animal to distinguish him from others of his kind.

But the Bushman, with his practised eye, saw something in the general physiognomy of the elephant--just as one may distinguish a fierce and dangerous bull from those of milder disposition, or a bad from a virtuous man, by some expression that one cannot define.
Von Bloom himself, and even Hendrik, saw that the elephant had a fierce and ruffian look.
They did not stand in need of Swartboy's advice to act with caution.
They remained for some minutes, gazing through the bushes at the huge quadruped.

The more they gazed, the more they became resolved to make an attack upon him.

The sight of his long tusks was too tempting to Von Bloom, to admit for a moment the thought of letting him escape without a fight.