Four of us bore him again, struggling, into the village. This time I would not trust him to the cage, but fastened a small chain round his neck. This operation he resisted with all his might, and it took us quite an hour to securely chain the little fellow, whose strength was something marvellous.
Ten days after he was thus chained he died quite suddenly. He had been in good health, and ate plentifully of his natural food, which was brought every day from the forest for him. He did not seem to sicken until two days before his death. He died in some pain. To the last he continued utterly untameable, and after his chain was put on he added treachery to his other vices. He would come sometimes quite readily to eat out of my hand, but while I stood by him would suddenly--looking me all the time in the face to keep my attention--put out his foot and grasp at my leg. Several times he tore my pantaloons in this manner. A quick retreat on my part saved my legs from further injury, but I had to be very careful in my approaches. The negroes could not come near him at all without setting him in a rage. He seemed always to remember that they captured him, and to think he had experienced rather too hard treatment at their hands; but he evidently always cherished towards me also a feeling of revenge.
After he was chained I filled a half barrel with hay, and set it near him for his bed. He recognised its use at once, and it was pretty to see him shake up the hay and creep into this nest when he was tired. At night he always shook it up, and then took some hay in his hands, with which he would cover himself when he was snug in his barrel. He often moaned, for his mother perhaps, at night.
After Joe died I stuffed his body, and brought his skin and skeleton to New York, where many saw it. Around his neck, where the chain had been, the hair was worn off.
Poor Joe! I wish he had lived and become tame, so that I could have brought him home with me to show the children.
Now poor Joe can be seen stuffed in the British Museum.
THE HIPPOPOTAMUS--A DUEL--SHOOTING ON THE RIVER--NEARLY UPSET--A NIGHT-HUNT ON LAND--MY COMPANION FIRES AND RUNS--APPEARANCE AND HABITS OF THE HIPPOPOTAMUS.
What have we yonder in the water? A flock of hippopotami! Their bodies look for all the world like so many old weather-beaten logs stranded on a mud-bank or a sand-bar.