In the midst of the trees which lay between the two habitations might be seen a huge mastodon. It was Behemoth, standing under a great beech-tree, with his trunk upraised, as if browsing on the branches. He, too, was stationary now; resting, albeit he had no need of rest. However, there he stood, resolute defender of Steam House, like some enormous antediluvian animal, guarding the way.
Colossal as we had always thought our elephant, now that he stood before the everlasting hills, he, the handiwork of puny man, faded into insignificance. “Like a fly on the facade of a cathedral!” remarked Captain Hood contemptuously.
The comparison was good. Here, behind us, was a block of granite, from which a thousand elephants the size of ours might have been carved, and this block was but a simple st
