Explore "C. I. D" by Talbot Mundy on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
"You shall drink with it to your own health, you devil!"
Pictures burned themselves from then on into Copeland's mind. They were lurid, with gaps between them, like the midnight glimpses from a railway window. Some of them were like remembered fragments of a nightmare. There was one where the elephant swam the river; part of it was a fantastic fight in darkness with a tree that whirled down-flood. It entangled the elephant's legs; he tried to dive beneath it, and its branches caught the howdah trappings. Tree and elephant at last were flung against the far bank.