The Eagle Cliff

  CHAPTER EIGHT.

  JACKMAN'S WONDERFUL ELEPHANT STORY.

  "Once upon a time," said Jackman, glancing at Junkie and Robin Tips, whosat before him open-mouthed and open-eyed, as if ready to swallowanything...

  "Yes," murmured Junkie, nodding, "that's the right way to begin."

  "But you must not interrupt, Junkie."

  "No, I won't do it again; but first, tell me, is it true?"

  "Yes, my boy; it is absolutely true in all its main points," repliedJackman.

  "Well, as I said, once upon a time, not very long ago, I was sent up tothe North-west provinces of India, to a place near the base of theHimalaya mountain-range. The country was swarming with elephants atthat time. You see, previous to that, the elephants had been hunted andkilled to such an extent that the Government had been obliged to pass anElephant Preservation Act for their protection, and the Act worked sowell that the elephants multiplied very fast. They roamed at willthrough the forests, and frequently, leaving these, made raids upon thecultivated lands, to the great damage of property and danger of humanlife from the `rogues,' as old, solitary elephants which have beendriven from the herds, are called. These `rogues' are extremelyill-natured and dangerous, so it was found necessary to take steps tokill some of them, and thin the herds by capturing some of the females,which might be tamed and made useful.

  "For this purpose of hunting and catching elephants a hunt upon a trulymagnificent scale was instituted. Now, as it is very difficult to killsuch huge creatures, and still more difficult to catch them, men areobliged to call to their aid tame elephants, which are trained for thepurpose of what is called Khedda hunting. But I don't mean to tell youeither about the killing or catching just now. I shall rather relate anextraordinary and thrilling incident that occurred before the hunt hadproperly begun.

  "Great men from all parts of the country assembled at this hunt, some ofthem bringing troops of tame elephants and followers with them. Therewere governors and rajahs, and private secretaries, with some of theirwives, military officers, forest officers, commissioners, collectors,superintendents, magistrates, surgeons, medical officers, and evenclergymen, besides a host of smaller fry and servants. It was a regulararmy! The Maharajah of Bulrampore sent sixty-five catching elephants,and five koonkies or fighting elephants, among which was a famouswarrior named Chand Moorut. Along with these came a body of men trainedto that special work. A good contingent also came from Rampore. TheRajah of Khyrigarh came in person with thirteen elephants and a notedfighting animal, named Berchir Bahadur; other elephants were collectedfrom the rajahs and native gentlemen around. Among the koonkies, orgladiators, were two tremendous fellows, both as to colossal size andcourage, named respectively Raj Mungul and Isri Pershad.

  "But far before them all in towering height and stupendous weight andunconquerable courage, as well as warlike tendency, was the mighty ChandMoorut, whom I first mentioned. This grand, slow-moving, sedate hero ofa hundred fights, was a sort of elephantine bull-dog; a concentratedearthquake; an animal thunder-bolt; a suppressed volcano. Nothing inthe forests had yet been found which could stand before his onset. Andwhen we saw him stalk solemnly into camp with his mahowt, or guide,looking like a small monkey on his great neck, and remembered his fameas a fighter and his eager thirst at all times for battle, we felt thatthe keystone had been put to the arch of our arrangements.

  "This great mixed multitude was put under the direction of a Conservatorof Forests, a man celebrated for his exploits and daring adventures inthe field, and it was as a friend of his that I joined the hunt with myman, Pat Quin there."

  "Troth, sor, an' av it wasn't for Chand Moorut (blissin's on his greatsowl, av he has wan, an' on his body av he hasn't) your man Pat Quinwould have been left there as flat as a pancake. Excuse me, sor, forspakin', but me feelin's overcomed me."

  "No doubt, Quin, you had a narrow escape; I'll come to that soon. Well,the spot at last chosen for pitching the camp was a splendid one, facingnorthward, where we had an extensive view of the great forests thatstretched to the base of the irregular and rugged Sawalick hills.Behind these rose the mighty Himalayas themselves, their grand peaksseeming to push up into the very heavens, where the sun shone withdazzling brilliancy on their everlasting snows. The camp covered animmense piece of ground, which was partly open and partly dotted withclumps of trees. It was so large that the tents, etcetera, werearranged in streets, and our Director pitched his tent in the verycentre of it, with all the tame elephants and their attendants aroundhim.

  "You may easily fancy that it was a noisy camp, with so many hundreds ofmen and animals around, full of excitement, more or less, about thecoming fight; for we had a number of men, called trackers, out in thewoods, who had brought in news that a herd of wild elephants had justbeen discovered in the Saharanpur and Dun forests, on the banks of theGanges.

  "The glens in these forests were known to be well suited for huntingpurposes, so our hopes and expectations were raised to a high pitch.Towards evening we had got pretty well settled down, when a rumour gotabout the camp that one of the Khedda elephants had killed a man, andthat it was highly probable he would run _amuck_ to the great danger ofevery one. It happened thus:--

  "A big tusker, named Mowla Buksh, was being taken by his mahowt to drinkand bathe, according to custom, when it was observed that the elephantseemed to be out of temper. Just then one of the fodder-cutters chancedto pass by.

  "`Keep out of his way,' cried the mahowt, in a warning tone. `There'ssomething wrong with him to-day. I won't bathe him, I think.'

  "`Oh! he knows me well, and won't harm me,' returned the cutter.

  "The words were scarcely out of the man's mouth, when the brute rushedat him, knocked him down, gored him with his tusks, and kicked him afterthe fashion of enraged elephants. Of course the poor man was instantlykilled. When this deed was done, Mowlah Buksh seemed to feel that,having lost his character, he might as well go on in his course ofmischief. He became wild with fury, and kept throwing his head back ina vain endeavour to seize his mahowt with his trunk and kill him also.In this effort he failed. The mahowt, though old, was active andstrong. He managed to hold on and sit so far back on the elephant'shind quarters as to be just out of reach. Luckily the brute did notthink of shaking him off.

  "Had he attempted that, he would soon have succeeded. The poor manwould have fallen to the ground and been killed. Finding that he couldnot accomplish his purpose, the infuriated animal rushed towards thecamp, where the khedda or hunting elephants were, and where, as I havesaid, our Director had pitched his tent. My own tent was close besidehis.

  "The first I heard of what was going on was from Quin, who came runninginto my tent, where I was sitting quietly at the time, cleaning myrifle. Quin's eyes were starting out of his head, and there was, Iassure you, nothing of the pleasant smile that rests on his face at thismoment!

  "`Och, sor!' gasped Quin, `Bowla Muk--no--Mowla Buksh--has gone madentoirely!'

  "I jumped up quickly, you may believe, for I didn't often see _that_look on Quin's face, and when I did, I knew well that something veryserious was in the wind.

  "`Where away is he?' I asked.

  "`Sorrow wan o' me knows, sor,' said Quin.

  "Rushing out with no very fixed purpose in view, I soon found that theshouting in the camp was a sufficient guide to the spot where themischief was going on. In a few minutes I came on a cordon ofmusketeers who had been hastily drawn up, so as to prevent Mowla Bukshfrom getting at the other elephants, for if he had succeeded in doingso, he would certainly have gone knocking about the smaller ones,perhaps maiming them, and killing every man who might chance to come inhis path. On the other hand, if the musketeers managed to turn him,there was the danger of his making for the main camp, and killing everyone he could lay hold of in that direction.

  "Of course the thought of turning out the big fighting elephants tomaster him occurred to every one; but even here there would be risk, forthese gladiators would
not rest content without knocking Mowla Buksh offhis legs, in which case the mahowt would assuredly be killed. Besides,our Director chanced to be in the forest at the time, and no one elseseemed ready to take the responsibility of ordering them out.

  "When I came up to the musketeers, I saw the elephant rushing wildlyabout, trying to find a way through them, with the old mahowt stickingto his back like a burr.

  "The Bulrampore men shouted to him to try and get the elephant to go tohis standing-place, saying that if he could persuade him to sit downthey would tie his legs up. After the brute had exhausted itselfsomewhat by rushing about, the mahowt did succeed in recovering controlso far as to persuade him to move to his standing-place, which was notfar distant, and to our great relief he sat down in the usual way. TheBulrampore men were as good as their word. Smart hands every one, theyran up with ropes and commenced tying up his hind legs. Being expertsat the work, they manipulated the thick ropes with amazing rapidity, andhad the panting animal almost secured when he partially recovered, andbegan to understand what was being done to him. He started upindignantly, just before the knots were properly fastened, and struckout right and left with his trunk, scattering the men in all directions.

  "Although the ropes had not been quite secured, they were sufficientlyfast to impede his movements. He therefore took to venting his rage onthe surrounding trees, and, really, until that day, I had not realisedthe prodigious strength of this king of beasts. He knocked and smashedthem down right and left with the greatest possible ease, although, I doassure you, some of them were fully eight inches in diameter. All thistime the old mahowt was clinging to his back, not daring to slip off.

  "The men now began to lay large rope-nooses about here and there, in thehope that he would accidentally put a foot into one of them. But MowlaBuksh was much too knowing to be caught in this way. Whenever he cameacross one of these nooses, he took it up with his trunk and tossed itcontemptuously aside. Gradually he worked his way up to a cluster oftrees, near the tent in which our Director's wife had been seated allthe time--with what feelings I will not pretend to guess. In thiscluster he spent two hours, smashing down trees all the time, andoccasionally, by way of variety, trying to lay hold of the poor mahowt,who was gradually becoming exhausted through terror and the exertion ofholding on.

  "Strange to say, now and then the man appeared to regain control overthe beast, though only for a few seconds. During one of these intervalshe even succeeded in making Mowla Buksh partially sit down.

  "`Och! now or niver! Off wid ye!' yelled a splitting voice close to myear! I need not tell you whose voice that was, or that its owner wasskipping about like a gorilla, almost as mad as the elephant!"

  "Ah! sor," interrupted Quin, "don't ye remimber how yourself was--butI'll have mercy on ye! Go on, sor."

  "Well, I confess," resumed Jackman, "that I was a little excited.However, the Bulrampore men echoed Quin's advice in eagerly expressedHindustani. The mahowt took it, slipped to the ground, and ran for hislife! Fortunately the excited Mowla either did not perceive or did notcare. He rose up and recommenced his work of destruction.

  "All this time he had been freeing himself from the ropes, with which hewas imperfectly bound. At last he detached them entirely, and began tomake furious rushes in every direction.

  "At that critical moment our Director arrived on the scene. Seeing howmatters stood he at once gave orders to have the fighting elephantsbrought to the front, as the only chance that remained to bring themischief to an end. The orders were gladly and promptly obeyed.

  "Before they arrived, however, Mowla Buksh, in one of his rushes, camestraight to where Quin and I were standing--"

  "Skippin', sor, ye said."

  "Well, skipping. But we stopped skipping at once, and took to runningas hard as we could. We both ran through some soft reedy ground, wherethe brute overtook us. I glanced over my shoulder and saw him knockQuin into the rushes and set his enormous foot on him--"

  "Oh! was he killed?" exclaimed Junkie with a look of consternation atthe now heroic Quin!

  There was a general burst of laughter, in which Junkie joined, for hesaw the absurdity of the question, which sudden anxiety had forced fromhim.

  "But why wasn't you killed?" he asked almost indignantly.

  "Whisht! honey, an' ye'll hear, av ye'll howld your tongue."

  "You must know," continued Jackman, "that the place he had tumbled intowas wet, soft ground, and Quin has a sharp way of looking after hislife! Although half stunned he rolled to one side, so that only theside of the great foot came down on his shoulder and thrust him deepinto the mud. I stopped at once with a feeling of horror, but withoutthe slightest conception of what I meant to do, and the horror wasdeepened as I saw the monster turn with the evident intention ofcompleting his work.

  "At that terrible moment the colossal forms of Raj Mungul, Isri Pershad,and the mighty Chand Moorut appeared, coming towards us. Mowla Bukshdid not carry out his deadly intentions. There was `method in hismadness.' Seeing the koonkies approach, he retreated at once to theshelter of the cluster of trees, and waited.

  "I rushed forward, expecting to find my man dead and flattened, but herose slowly as I came up, and with an indescribable expression ofcountenance said, `Arrah! then, but he _was_ heavy!'"

  "An' _that_ must have been true--what-ever" said McGregor, unable torestrain a comment at this point.

  "What you remark is true likewise, Shames," said the skipper.

  "Go on--quick!" cried Junkie, eagerly.

  "Well, our Director gave orders, to take Raj Mungul to the south side ofthe clump of trees, Isri Pershad to the west, and Chand Moorut to theeast. It was impossible to let the last go in, though he was impatientto do so, for by that time it was getting dark, and his mahowt wouldhave probably been swept off his back by the branches; and the risk ofsuch a gladiator being let loose without a controlling hand was not tobe thought of for a moment.

  "The difficulty was got over by means of a ruse. Two men were sent tothe north side of the clump with orders to talk and attract theattention of Mowla. The plan succeeded. The moment the still fumingbrute heard their voices, he went at them furiously! Now was the chancefor the heroic Chand Moorut; and that warrior was never known to let anopportunity slip. No British bull-dog ever gave or accepted a challengewith more hilarious alacrity than he. As soon as Mowla came out of thetrees, Chand Moorut went at him with a rush that seemed incredible insuch a mountain of usually slow and dignified flesh. But darkness,coupled perhaps with haste, interfered. He missed his mark, and MowlaBuksh, turning round, dashed straight at the tent, in front of which ourDirector and a friend were standing. The friend, who was a V.C. as wellas a cool and intrepid sportsman, directed the light of a lantern fullon the monster's face till it was close upon him, thus enabling theDirector to plant a bullet in his head. Whether the shot gave him aheadache or not, I cannot tell. The only certain effect it had was toturn the animal aside, and cause it to rush off in the direction of themain camp, closely followed by Isri Pershad and Raj Mungul. ChandMoorut was held back in reserve. Happily Raj Mungul managed to outstripand turn the runaway, and as Mowla Buksh came back, Chand Moorut gotanother chance at him. Need I say that he took advantage of it?Charging in like a live locomotive, he sent the mad creature flying--asif it had been a mere kitten--head over heels into a small hollow!"

  "Well done! Capital!" shouted Junkie, at this point unable to restrainhimself, as, with glittering eyes, he glanced round the circle oflisteners.

  A laugh at his enthusiasm seemed to Junkie to endorse his sentiment, sohe turned to Jackman and earnestly bade him to "go on."

  "There is not much to go on with now, my boy," continued the narrator;"for Mowla Buksh being down, the fighting elephants took good care topunish him well before they let him up again. But as the encounter hadaroused the combative propensities of Chand Moorut, it was thought wiseto remove him from the scene before he became too excited. This beingmanaged by his ma
howt, the punishing of the rebel was left to IsriPershad and Raj Mungul, who did their work thoroughly. No sooner didthe culprit scramble out of the hollow than Isri Pershad knocked himback into it, and pummelled him heartily with trunk and legs. AgainMowla Buksh rose, and this time Raj Mungul gave him a tap on theforehead with his own ponderous head, which sent him into a bed of giantrushes, over the top of which his little tail was seen to wriggleviciously as he disappeared with a crash.

  "There he would probably have been content to lie still for a time, buthis opponents had other views in regard to him. They went at himtogether, and so cuffed, kicked, bumped and pummelled him, that in aboutfive minutes he was reduced to a pitiable state of humiliation. As Quintruly remarked at the time, his own mother would have failed torecognise him.

  "Just at this point, to my surprise, the old mahowt came forward, withtears in his eyes, and begged that his elephant might be spared! It hadbeen punished quite sufficiently, he thought. I was much impressed withthis display of a tender, forgiving spirit towards a brute that had doneits very best to take his own life. But no one sympathised with him atthe moment, and the punishment was continued until Mowla Buksh wasthoroughly subdued, and compelled by his conquerors to return to hisstanding-place, where he was finally and firmly secured. Thus, at last,ended this exciting and most unexpected commencement to our hunt, andthe whole camp was soon after steeped in silence and repose. Not a badbeginning, eh, Junkie?"

  "Yes, but go on wi' the hunt," said the boy with eager promptitude, arequest which was loudly echoed by his brothers.

  "No, no, boys; you've had enough to digest for one day; besides, I seethe cart coming up the road to fetch our deer. And perhaps your fatherhas more work cut out for us."

  "Well, not much," replied the laird, who had been quite as muchinterested in the elephant story as his sons. "There is another driveon the east side of the hill, which we have still time for, though Idon't expect much from it. However, we can try it. Come now, lads,we'll be going."

  "Shames," said Captain McPherson, as the party moved away from thelunching-ground, "I wonder if a good thrashin' like that would make theelephant a better beast afterwards?"

  "Weel now, Captain Mcphairson, I don't think it would," replied McGregorafter a pause for consideration.

  "You are right, Shames," said Ian Anderson, the old fisherman, who was adeep-thinking man. "It has always appeared to me, that the object ofpoonishment, is a not to make us coot, but to make us obedient."

  "Then what for are ye always poonishin' me, an' tellin' me to be coot,when ye say it won't make me coot?" asked Donald.

  "Because, Tonal', it iss my duty to _tell_ ye to be coot, although Icannot _make_ ye coot, ye rascal!" answered the fisherman, sternly; "butI can make ye obey me by poonishin' you--ay, an' I wull do it too."

  Donald knew too well from experience that it was not safe to attemptarguing the question, but he gave a peculiarly defiant shake of hisragged head, which said as plainly as words that the time was comingwhen "poonishment" would cease to secure even obedience--at least in hiscase!

  "You are right, Ian," said Jackman, turning round, for he had overheardthe conversation. "Punishment compelled Mowla Buksh to walk to hisstanding-place and submit to be tied up, for he did not dare to disobeywith Isri Pershad and Raj Mungul standing guard over him, but itcertainly did not make him good. I went, with many others, to see himthe next morning. On the way over to the elephant camp, I saw the hugetrees which he had smashed down in his rage lying about in alldirections, and on reaching his standing-place, found him lookingdecidedly vicious and bad-tempered. It was quite evident that any oneventuring within reach of his trunk would receive harsh treatment and nomercy. A small red spot in his great forehead showed that ourDirector's aim had been a fairly good one, though it had not hit thedeadly spot in the centre."

  "But I want to know," said Junkie, who kept close to Jackman's side,thirsting for every word that fell from his lips, "why did the bulletnot go in and kill Bowly Muksh?"

  "Because the head of Mowla Buksh was too thick," said Jackman, laughing."You see, to be a thick-head is not always a disadvantage."

  "There, you ought to take comfort from that, Junkie," remarked hisbrother Archie, with that fine spirit of tenderness which is so oftenobservable in brothers.

  "Ha! ha! ha!" yelled Eddie, with that delicacy of feeling which isequally common.

  "Hold your tongues!" growled Junkie--the more classic "shut up" nothaving at that time found its way to the Western Isles.

  "You must know, Junkie, that all parts of an elephant's head are not ofequal thickness," said Jackman in that kindly confidential tone whichtends so powerfully to soothe a ruffled spirit. "The only point in anelephant's forehead that can be pierced by a rifle ball is exactly inthe centre. It is about the size of a saucer, and if you miss that, youmight as well fire against the Eagle Cliff itself, for the ball wouldonly stick in the skull."

  With this explanation Junkie was fain to rest content at the time, forthe party had reached a part of the hill where it became necessary tostation the guns at their several posts. In regard to this drive, wehave only to say that it ended in nothing except heavy rain and a severedraft on the patience of the sportsmen, without any reward, save thatwhich may be derived from mild martyrdom.

  Now, when the events which we have described were taking place on themountains of Loch Lossie, a very different scene was occurring in thenursery of Kinlossie House. In that interesting apartment, which wasone of the chief country residences of the spirits Row and Smash, littleFlora was seated all alone in the afternoon of that day. Her seat was alow chair, before her was a low table to match. On the table sat herfavourite doll, Blackie, to whom she was administering counsel of thegravest kind, in tones the most solemn. The counsel, we need scarcelysay, gave unquestionable proof that her mother's admonitions to herselfhad been thoroughly understood, though not always acted on. Flo was inthe midst of one of her most pathetic appeals to Blackie to be "dood,"when her mother entered hastily.

  "Come with me, darling, to visit poor old Mrs Donaldson. She is notvery well, I hear."

  Flo required no second bidding, for she was extremely fond of thekeeper's mother--and love needs no persuasion.

  As we have said, Mrs Donaldson's little cottage stood behind that ofher son Ivor. It was very small, consisting of only one apartment witha box bed and a few articles of old furniture, the most cherished ofwhich was a little clock with a staring face, and a poor landscape onit.

  "What caused the bruise, Maggie?" asked Mrs Gordon, after much talk onthe subject of fomentations and bandages. The old woman hesitated totell, but after a little pressing she said, in half apologetictone,--"Weel, mem, it was na Ivor's fau't, but the day before yesterdayhe cam in--fou--ye ken he's fond o' his glass, mem, an' he was swingin'aboot his airms, poor falla, an' withoot the least intention, his haundcam doon wi' sik a ding on my heed that knockit me doon. But he kens naaboot it, so ye'll no speak o't to him--or to the laird."

  "You may depend upon it, poor Maggie, that I will not. My mentioning itcould do no good. And, as you say, Ivor was not quite himself at thetime."

  "Thank'ee, mem, that's just it. An' he's the best sons to me--_whanhe's sober_."

  Soon afterwards a shout outside told that the sportsmen had returnedfrom the hills, so, bidding the old woman good-bye, Mrs Gordon and hersympathetic child returned to the house.