They saw that the ground upon one side of the tree was trampled, as though horses or some other animals had been tied there for a long time, and had worn off the turf, and worked it into dust with their hoofs.

The bark of the tree--a full-topped shady acacia--for some distance up was worn smooth upon one side, just as though cattle had used it for a rubbing-post.
"What has done it ?" asked the field-cornet and Hendrik in a breath.
"Da olifant's slapen-boom," (the elephant's sleeping-tree), replied Swartboy.
No further explanation was necessary.

The hunters remembered what they had been told about a curious habit which the elephant has--of leaning against a tree while asleep.

This, then, was one of the sleeping-trees of these animals.
But of what use to them, farther than to gratify a little curiosity?
The elephant was not there.
"Da ole karl come again," said Swartboy.
"Ha! you think so, Swart ?" inquired Von Bloom.
"Ya, baas, lookee da! spoor fresh--da groot olifant hab slap here yesterday." "What then?
you think we should lie in wait, and shoot him when he returns." "No, baas, better dan shoot, we make him bed--den wait see um lie down." Swartboy grinned a laugh as he gave this piece of advice.
"Make his bed! what do you mean ?" inquired his master.
"I tell you, baas, we get da olifant sure, if you leave da job to ole Swart.

I gib you de plan for take him, no waste powder, no waste bullet." The Bushman proceeded to communicate his plan, to which his master-- remembering their failure of yesterday--readily gave his consent.
Fortunately they had all the implements that would be necessary for carrying it out,--a sharp axe, a strong rope or "rheim" of raw-hide, and their knives--and they set about the business without loss of time..