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This was a small village in lower Burma. Where he was hated by many people, in an aimless, pretty kind of way all anti-European feelings was very bitter. He was a ill-educated young man, and was forced to deal with all of his problems in silence and alone. This was brought on any Englishman in the east. The yellow faces of young men hooted at him from safe distances
. . .
day-dreams of driving a Bayonnet through the gut of a Buddhist Priest.
When he was given the call that an elephant had escaped and ravaging the town, he was puzzled. This elephant had been a tamed animal but his attack of “must” was due, and had broken his chain and escaped from his owner. The elephant took the slightest notice of the crowds approach, and then returned to breaking branches and eating them. He didn’t know what to do but he wanted to see what was going on. He didn’t want to shoot the elephant once and it seemed to him as if the elephant just became paralyzed. And the owner had gone in pursuit but had chosen the wrong way and was not twelve hours away. Even though he didn’t want to he had to because it was his butt and his duty. This upset him very much because in sense he was the oppressor, and living with them was a crime. Not until something happens do they need to give respect to the Englishman. This is where he shows them who is boss. Except that it disgusted him how ruthless the Burmese were against their oppressors. He lived his life as an outcast and without any knowledge of the culture.
After he had requested for the gun, the villagers ran over with excitement that he was going to shoot the elephant.
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