The Elephant God

  CHAPTER VIII

  A BHUTTIA RAID

  Dermot's friendship with the Dalehams made rapid progress, and in theensuing weeks he saw them often. In order to verify his suspicions as tothe Bengalis, he made a point of cultivating the acquaintance of theplanters, paid several visits to Payne and other members of the community,and was a frequent guest at the weekly gatherings at the club.

  On one of his visits to Malpura he found Fred recovering from a sharp boutof malarial fever, and Dermot was glad of an opportunity of requiting theirhospitality by inviting both the Dalehams to Ranga Duar to enable Fred torecuperate in the mountain air.

  The invitation was gladly accepted. Their host came to fetch them himselfwith two elephants; Badshah, carrying a _charjama_, conveying them, whilethe other animal bore their luggage and servants. With jealous rage in hisheart Chunerbutty watched them go.

  Noreen enjoyed the journey through the forest and up the mountains, withDermot sitting beside her to act as her guide, for on this occasionRamnath drove Badshah. As they climbed the steep, winding road among thehills and rose out of the damp heat of the Plains, Fred declared that hefelt better at once in the cool refreshing breezes that swept down fromthe lofty peaks above. The forest fell away behind them. The great teakand _sal_ trees gave place to the lighter growths of bamboo, plantain,and sago-palm. A troop of small brown monkeys, feasting on ripe bananas,sprang away startled on all fours and vanished in all directions. Aslim-bodied, long-tailed mongoose, stealing across the road, stopped inthe middle of it to rise up on his hind legs and stare with tiny pinkeyes at the approaching elephants. Then, dropping to the ground againwith puffed-out, defiant tail, he trotted on into the undergrowth angryand unafraid.

  Arrived at Ranga Duar the brother and sister exclaimed in admiration at thebeauty of the lonely outpost nestling in the bosom of the hills. They gazedwith interest at the stalwart sepoys of the detachment in khaki or whiteundress whom they passed and who drew themselves up and saluted theircommanding sahib smartly.

  Dermot had given up his small bungalow to his guests and gone to occupythe one vacant quarter in the Mess. Noreen was to sleep in his bedroom,and, as the girl looked round the scantily-furnished apartment withits small camp-bed, one canvas chair, a table, and a barrack chest ofdrawers, she tried to realise that she was actually to live for a whilein the very room of the man who was fast becoming her hero. For indeedher feeling for Dermot so far savoured more of hero-worship than oflove. She looked with interest at his scanty possessions, his sword,the line of riding-boots against the wall, the belts and spurs hung onnails, the brass-buttoned greatcoat hanging behind the door. In hissitting-room she read the names of the books on a roughly-made stand totry to judge of his taste in literature. And with feminine curiosity shestudied the photographs on the walls and tables and wondered who werethe originals of the portraits of some beautiful women among them andwhat was their relation to Dermot.

  While her brother, who picked up strength at once in the pure air,delighted in the military sights and sounds around him, the girl revelledin the loveliness of their surroundings, the beauty of the scenery, thesplendour of the hills, and the glorious panorama of forest and plainsspread before her eyes. To Parker, who had awaited their arrival atDermot's gate and hurried forward to help down from Badshah's back thefirst Englishwoman who had ever visited their solitary station, she took aninstant liking, which increased when she found that he openly admired hiscommanding officer as much as she did secretly.

  In the days that followed it seemed quite natural that the task ofentertaining Noreen should fall to the senior officer's lot, while thejunior tactfully paired off with her brother and took him to shoot on therifle range or join in games of hockey with the sepoys on the paradeground, which was the only level spot in the station.

  Propinquity is the most frequent cause of love--for one who falls headlonginto that passion fifty drift into it. In the isolation of that solitaryspot on the face of the giant mountains, Kevin Dermot and Noreen Dalehamdrew nearer to each other in their few days together there than they everwould have done in as many months of London life. As they climbed the hillsor sat side by side on the Mess verandah and looked down on the leagues offorest and plain spread out like a map at their feet, they were apt toforget that they were not alone in the world.

  The more Dermot saw of Noreen, the more he was attracted by her naturalnessand her unconscious charm of manner. He liked her bright and happydisposition, full of the joy of living. On her side Noreen at first hardlyrecognised the quiet-mannered, courteous man that she had first known inthe smart, keen, and intelligent soldier such as she found Dermot to be inhis own surroundings. Yet she was glad to have seen him in his little worldand delighted to watch him with his Indian officers and sepoys, whoseliking and respect for him were so evident.

  When she was alone her thoughts were all of him. As she lay at nighthalf-dreaming on his little camp-bed in his bare room she wondered whathis life had been. And, to a woman, the inevitable question arose in hermind: Had he ever loved or was he now in love with someone? It seemed toher that any woman should be proud to win the love of such a man. Wasthere one? What sort of girl would he admire, she wondered. She hadnoticed that in their talks he had never mentioned any of her sex orgiven her a clue to his likes and dislikes. She knew little of men. Herbrother was the only one of whose inner life and ideas she had anyknowledge, and he was no help to her understanding of Dermot.

  It never occurred to Noreen that there was anything unusual in her interestin this new friend, nor did she suspect that that interest was perilouslyakin to a deeper feeling. All she knew was that she liked him and wascontent to be near him. She had not reached the stage of being miserableout of his presence. The dawn of a woman's love is the happiest time in itsstory. There is no certain realisation of the truth to startle, perhapsaffright, her, no doubts to depress her, no jealous fears to torture herheart--only a vague, delicious feeling of gladness, a pleasant rose-tintedglow to brighten life and warm her heart. The fierce, devouring flames comelater.

  The first love of a young girl is passionless, pure; a fanciful, poeticdevotion to an ideal; the worship of a deified, glorious being who doesnot, never could, exist. Too often the realisation of the truth that theidol has feet of clay is enough to burst the iridescent glowing bubble. Tooseldom the love deepens, develops into the true and lasting devotion of thewoman, clear-sighted enough to see the real man through the mists ofillusion, but fondly wise enough to cherish him in spite of his faults,aye, even because of them, as a mother loves her deformed child for itsvery infirmity.

  So to Noreen love had come--as it should, as it must, to every daughter ofEve, for until it comes no one of them will ever be really content or feelthat her life is complete, although when it does she will probably beunhappy. For it will surely bring to her more grief than joy. Life andNature are harder to the woman than to the man. But in those golden days inthe mountains, Noreen Daleham was happy, happier far than she had everbeen; albeit she did not realise that love was the magician that made herso. She only felt that the world was a very delightful place and that thelonely outpost the most attractive spot in it.

  Even when the day came to quit Ranga Duar she was not depressed. For wasnot her friend--so she named him now in her thoughts--to bring her on hiswonderful elephant through the leagues of enchanted forest to her home? Andhad he not promised to come to it again very soon to visit--not her, ofcourse, but her brother? So what cause was there for sadness?

  Long as was the way--for forty miles of jungle paths lay between Malpuraand Ranga Duar--the journey seemed all too short for Noreen. But it cameto an end at last, and they arrived at the garden as the sun set andKinchinjunga's fairy white towers and spires hung high in air for aspace of time tantalisingly brief. Before they reached the bungalow theshort-lived Indian twilight was dying, and the tiny oil-lamps began totwinkle in the palm-thatched huts of the toilers' village on the estate.And forth from it swarmed the coolies, men, women, children, not
towelcome them, but to stare at the sacred elephant. Many heads bent low,many hands were lifted to foreheads in awed salutation. Some of thethrong prostrated themselves to the dust, not in greeting to their ownsahib but in reverence to the marvellous animal and the mysterious whiteman bestriding his neck who was becoming identified with him.

  When Dermot rode away on Badshah the next morning the same scenes wererepeated. The coolies left their work among the tea-bushes to flock to theside of the road as he passed. But he paid as little attention to them asBadshah did, and turned just before the Dalehams' bungalow was lost tosight to wave a last farewell to the girl still standing on the verandahsteps. It was a vision that he took away with him in his heart.

  But, as the elephant bore him away through the forest, Noreen faded fromhis mind, for he had graver, sterner thoughts to fill it. Love can never bea fair game between the sexes, for the man and the woman do not play withequal stakes. The latter risks everything, her soul, her mind, her wholebeing. The former wagers only a fragment of his heart, a part of histhoughts. Yet he is not to blame; it is Nature's ordinance. For the world'swork would never go on if men, who chiefly carry it on, were possessed,obsessed, by love as women are.

  So Dermot was only complying with that ordinance when he allowed thethoughts of his task, which indeed was ever present with him, to oustNoreen from his mind. He was on his way to Payne's bungalow to meet themanagers of several gardens in that part of the district, who were toassemble there to report to him the result of their investigations.

  His suspicions were more than confirmed. All had the same tale to tell--astory of strange restlessness, a turbulent spirit, a frequent display ofinsolence and insubordination among the coolies ordinarily so docile andrespectful. But this was only in the gardens that numbered Brahmins intheir population. The influence of these dangerous men was growing daily.This was not surprising to any one who knows the extraordinary power ofthis priestly caste among all Hindus.

  There was evidence of constant communication between the Bengalis on theother estates and Malpura, which pointed to the latter as being theheadquarters of the promoters of disaffection. But few of the planters wereinclined to agree with Dermot in suspecting Chunerbutty as likely to provethe leader, for they were of opinion that his repudiation and disregard ofall the beliefs and customs of the Brahmins would render him obnoxious tothem.

  From Payne's the Major went on to visit some other gardens. Everywhere heheard the same story. All the planters were convinced that the heart andthe brain of the disaffection was to be found in Malpura. So Dermotdetermined to return there and expose the whole matter to Fred Daleham atlast, charging him on his loyalty not to give the faintest inkling toChunerbutty.

  A delay in the advent of the rain, which falls earlier in the district ofthe Himalayan foothills than elsewhere in India, had rendered the junglevery dry. Consequently when Dermot on Badshah's neck emerged from it on tothe garden of Malpura, he was not surprised to see at the far end of theestate a column of smoke which told of a forest fire. The wide, openstretch of the plantation was deserted, probably, so Dermot concluded,because all the coolies had been collected to beat out the flames. But, ashe neared the Daleham's bungalow, he saw a crowd of them in front of it.Before the verandah steps a group surrounded something on the ground, whilethe servants were standing together talking to a man in European clothes,whom Dermot, when he drew nearer, recognised as Chunerbutty.

  The group near the steps scattered as he approached, and Dermot saw thatthe object on the ground was a native lying on his back, covered with bloodand apparently dead.

  Chunerbutty rushed forward. He was evidently greatly agitated.

  "Oh, Major Dermot! Major Dermot! Help! Help!" he cried excitedly. "Aterrible thing has happened. Miss Daleham has been carried off by a partyof Bhuttia raiders."

  "Carried off? By Bhuttias?" exclaimed the soldier. "When?"

  He made the elephant kneel and slipped off to the ground.

  "Barely two hours ago," replied the engineer. "A fire broke out in thejungle at the south edge of the garden--probably started purposely to draweveryone away from the bungalows and factory. The manager, Daleham, and Iwent there to superintend the men fighting the flames. In our absence aparty of ten or twenty Bhuttia swordsmen rushed the house. Miss Daleham hadjust returned from her ride. Poor girl!"

  He broke down and began to cry.

  "Pull yourself together man!" exclaimed Dermot in disgust. "Go on. Whathappened?"

  "They seized and bound her," continued the Bengali, mastering his emotion."These cowards"--with a wave of his hand he indicated the servants--"didnothing to protect her. Only the _syce_ attempted to resist, and theykilled him."

  He pointed to the prostrate man.

  "They tried to bear her off on her pony, but it took fright and bolted.Then they tied poles to a chair brought from the bungalow and carried heraway in it."

  "Didn't the servants give the alarm?" asked Dermot.

  "No; they remained hiding in their quarters until we came. A coolie woman,who saw the raiders from a distance, ran to us and told us. Fred went mad,of course. He wanted to follow the Bhuttias, but I pointed out that it washopeless."

  "Hopeless? Why?"

  "There were only three of us, and they were a large party," repliedChunerbutty.

  "Yes; but you had rifles and should have been a match for fifty."

  The Bengali shrugged his shoulders.

  "We did not know in which way they had gone," he said. "We could not trackthem."

  "I suppose not. Well?"

  "Fred and Mr. Parry have ridden off in different directions to theneighbouring gardens to summon help. We sent two coolies with a telegram toyou or any officer at Ranga Duar, to be sent from the telegraph office onthe Barwahi estate. Then you came."

  Dermot observed him narrowly. He was always suspicious of the Hindu; but,unless the engineer was a good actor, there was no doubt that he wasgreatly affected by the outrage. His distress seemed absolutely genuine.And certainly there seemed no reason for suspecting his complicity in thecarrying off of Miss Daleham. So the Major turned to the servants and,taking them apart one by one, questioned them closely. Chunerbutty hadgiven their story correctly. But Dermot elicited two new facts which theyhad not mentioned to the engineer. One raider at least was armed with arevolver, which was unusual for a Bhuttia, the difficulty of procuringfirearms and ammunition in Bhutan being so great that even the soldiers ofthe Maharajah are armed only with swords and bows. The Dalehams'_khansamah_, or butler, stated that this man had threatened all theservants with this weapon, bidding them under pain of death remain in theirhouses without raising an alarm.

  "Do you know Bhutanese?" asked Dermot.

  "No, sahib. But he spoke Bengali," replied the servant.

  "Spoke it well?"

  "No, sahib, not well, but sufficiently for us to understand him."

  Another servant, on being questioned, mentioned the curious fact that theman with the revolver conversed with another of the raiders in Bengali.This struck Dermot as being improbable, but others of the servantsconfirmed the fact. Having gathered all the information that they couldgive him he went over to look at the dead man.

  The _syce_, or groom, was lying on his back in a pool of blood. He had beenstruck down by a blow from a sword which seemed to have split the skull.But, on placing his ear to the poor wretch's chest, Dermot thought that hecould detect a faint fluttering of the heart. Holding his polished silvercigarette case to the man's mouth he found its brightness slightly clouded.

  "Why, he is still living," exclaimed the soldier. "Quick! Bring water."

  He hastily applied his flask to the man's lips. Although he grudged thetime, Dermot felt that the wounded man's attempt to defend Noreen entitledhim to have his wound attended to even before any effort was made to rescueher. So he had the _syce_ carried to his hut, and then, taking out hissurgical case, he cleansed and sewed up the gash. But his thoughts werebusy with Noreen's peril. The occurrence astonished him. B
huttias from thehills beyond the border occasionally raided villages and tea-gardens inBritish territory in search of loot, but were generally careful to avoidEuropeans. Such an outrage as the carrying off of an Englishwoman had neverbeen heard of on the North-East Frontier.

  There was no time to be lost if the raiders were to be overtaken beforethey crossed the border. Indeed, with the start that they had, pursuitseemed almost hopeless. Nevertheless, Dermot resolved to attempt it, andsingle-handed. For he could not wait for the planters to gather, andsummoning his men from Ranga Duar was out of the question. He did notconsider the odds against him. Had Englishmen stopped to do so in India,the Empire would never have been founded. With his rifle and the prestigeof the white race behind him he would not have hesitated to face a hundredsuch opponents. His blood boiled at the thought of the indignity offered tothe girl; though he was not seriously concerned for her safety, judgingthat she had been carried off for ransom. But he pictured the distress andterror of a delicately nurtured Englishwoman at finding herself in thehands of a band of savage outlaws dragging her away to an unknown and awfulfate. She was his friend, and he felt that it was his right as well as hisduty to rescue her.

  With a grim determination to follow her abductors even to Punaka, thecapital of Bhutan, he swung his leg across Badshah's neck and set out,having bade Chunerbutty inform Daleham and the planters that he had startedin pursuit.

  The raiders had left the garden by a path leading to the north and headedfor the mountains. When Dermot got well clear of the bungalow and reachedthe confines of the estate, he dismounted and examined the ground overwhich they had passed. In the dust he found the blurred prints of a numberof barefooted men and in one place four sharply-defined marks which showedwhere they had set down the chair in which Noreen was being carried,probably to change the bearers. A mile or two further on the track crossedthe dry bed of a small stream. In the sand Dermot noticed to his surprisethe heel-mark of a boot among the footprints of the raiders, it being mostunusual for Bhuttias to be shod.

  As his rider knelt down to examine the tracks, Badshah stretched out histrunk and smelt them as though he understood the object of their mission.And, as soon as Dermot was again on his neck, he moved on at a rapid pace.It was necessary, however, to check constantly to search for the raiders'tracks. The Bhuttias had followed an animal path through the jungle, andDermot seated on his elephant's neck with loaded rifle across his knees,scanned it carefully and watched the undergrowth on either side, notinghere and there broken twigs or freshly-fallen leaves which marked thepassage of the chair conveying Noreen. Such signs were generally to befound at sharp turnings of the path. Wherever the ground was soft enough orsufficient dust lay to show impressions he stopped to examine the spotcarefully for footprints. Occasionally he detected the sharp marks of thechair-legs or of the boot.

  The trial led towards the mountains, as was natural. But after severalhours' progress Badshah turned suddenly to the left and endeavoured tocontinue on towards the west. Dermot was disappointed, for he had persuadedhimself that the elephant quite understood the quest and was following thetrail. He headed Badshah again towards the north, but with difficulty, forthe animal obstinately persisted in trying to go his own way. When Dermotconquered finally they continued towards the mountains. But before long thesoldier found that he had lost all traces of the raiding party. He castaround without success and wasted much time in endeavouring to pick up thetrail again. At last to his annoyance he was forced to turn back andretrace his steps.

  At the spot where the conflict of opinion between him and the elephant hadtaken place he cast about and found the track again. It led in thedirection in which Badshah had tried to take him. The elephant had beenwiser than he. Now, with an apologetic pat on the head, Dermot let himfollow the new path, wondering at the change of route, for it was onlynatural to expect that the Bhuttias would have made for the hills by theshortest way to the nearest pass into Bhutan. As the elephant moved alonghis rider's eye was quick to recognise the traces of the passing of theraiders, where no sign would have been visible to one unskilled intracking.

  All at once Badshah slackened his pace and began to advance with thecaution of a tusker stalking an enemy. Confident in the animal'sextraordinary intelligence Dermot cocked his rifle. The elephant suddenlyturned off the path and moved noiselessly through the undergrowth for a fewminutes. Then he stopped on the edge of an open glade in the forest.

  Scattered about in it, sitting or lying down half-asleep, were a number ofshort, sturdy, brown-faced men with close cropped bare heads. Each was cladin a single garment shaped like a Japanese _kimono_ and kilted up to exposethick-calved, muscular bare legs by a girdle from which hung a _dah_--ashort, straight sword. A little apart from them sat Noreen Daleham in achair in which she was securely fastened and to which long carrying-poleswere tied. She was dressed in riding costume and wore a sun-helmet.

  The girl was pale, weary, and dejected, and looked so frail and unfitted tocope with so terrifying a situation that a feeling of immense tendernessand an instinctive desire to protect her filled Dermot as he watched her.Then passionate anger welled up in him as he turned his eyes again to hercaptors; and he longed to make them pay dearly for the suffering that shehad endured.

  But, despite his rage, he deliberated coolly enough on the best mode ofattack, as he counted the number of the raiders. There were twenty-two. Thesoldier's quick eye instantly detected that one of them, although garbedsimilarly to the rest, was in features unlike a Bhuttia and had not thesturdy frame of a man of that race. He was wearing shoes and socks and wasthe only one of the party not carrying a _dah_.

  Dermot's first idea was to open fire suddenly on the raiders and continuefiring while moving about in cover from place to place on the edge of theglade, so as to give the impression of a numerous force. But he feared thatharm might come to the girl in the fight if any of the Bhuttias carriedfire-arms, for they would probably fire wildly, and a stray bullet mighthit the girl. So he resolved on a bolder policy. While the raiders, who hadput out no sentries, lay about in groups unconscious of the proximity of anenemy, Dermot touched Badshah with his hand, and the elephant brokenoiselessly out of the undergrowth and suddenly appeared in their midst.