CHAPTER XI
_Elephant Concerns_
"Only the altogether ignorant do not know that the women of my linehave been chaste."
It was the youngest mahout of the Chief Commissioner's elephantstockades of Hurda, who spoke.
They sat in comfort under the feathery branches of tall tamarisk trees,smoking their water-pipes, after the sunset meal. It was the time fortalk.
"A good beginning," said a very old man near by, "it being wise, incase of doubt, to stop the mouth of--who might speak afterward."
"And the men of my line," proceeded the youngest mahout, withoutembarrassment, "have been illustrious--save those who are forgotten.They all have been of High Himalaya; yet I am the least among you. Irender homage of Hill blood, hot and full, to every one of you--myelders--because you are all mahouts of High Himalaya, even as myfathers were."
The men of the stockades bowed their heads in grave acknowledgment.
"Then by what curse of what gods falls this calamity," the boy went on,"that we of the Chief Commissioner's stockades are forced to receive amahout from the Vindha Hills; and an unreputed elephant--from the hillswithout repute?"
"Softly, young one, softly!" a mahout in his full prime made swiftanswer. "Truly it is well the young are not permitted to use thatuntamed strength in speech, which is best governed by the waste ofsinew!"
The youngest mahout bent his head in humility and said with softreverence:
"Will he who is most wise among us, enlighten the darkness of him whois most foolish?"
"It is that elephants of great repute have come from the Vindha Hills;and mahouts of great learning. Also, there is a luminous traditionthat the most exalted creatures of their kind--those who travelled farfrom the high lands of Persia long ago--chose place for their futuregenerations in the Vindha Hills; and not in High Himalaya."
This man who had first rebuked sternly and afterward explained withextreme gentleness, was Kudrat Sharif, the mahout of Neela Deo--mightyleader of their caravan. He was malik--which is to say, governingmahout--over them all; and best qualified among them. Therefore aclamour rose for more. The youngest mahout went from his place and satnear, as Kudrat Sharif continued:
"The black elephants are all but gone. Not more than one in ageneration of men is seen any more. They are seldom toiled into thetrap-stockades, in which the less wary are taken. The natures of thosewho have been snared are strange to us of the High Hills. Theysometimes destroy men in their anger; they sometimes destroy themselvesin their grief."
"What is the heart of this knowledge?" asked a man who had not spokenbefore.
"That these stockades are distinguished by Government," Kudrat Sharifreplied. "The elephant who is to reach us this evening, is a blackelephant--descended from the lines of ancient Persia."
A chorus of exclamations swept the circle, before the gurgle of hookahstook the moment, as the mahouts gave themselves to meditation andwater-winnowed smoke.
Then the trumpet tones of an elephant were heard from far out in thegathering gloom.
"May Vishnu, the great Preserver, save us from a killer!"
The man who said these words was not less than magical in his power tocontrol the unruly; but he never took credit to himself. "That is thevoice of a fighter--smooth as curds of cream--and it reaches from farout; very far out."
The challenge-call sounded again; and the big males of the stockadeanswered without hesitation.
These mahouts had trained ears; and they listened--computing thestranger's rate of speed. The fullness of tone increased; andpresently one said:
"He comes fast."
But they were not prepared to see the elephant that rolled into theglare of their torches out of the night.
He came to pause in the centre of the exercise arena--a vast sandeddisk just front of the stockade buildings--and stood rocking his hugebody, tamping the ground with his feet as if still travelling. Themahout on his neck spoke to him patiently:
"Now will my master use his intelligence to understand that we havearrived?"
Then turning to the men on the ground, the strange mahout saidwistfully:
"Look on me with compassion, oh men of honour and of fame! I haveheard of you, but you have not heard of me."
"We have heard of you, that you are the making of a master-mahout, indue time," answered Kudrat Sharif.
"Then the gods who preserved my fathers to old age, have not forgottenthat I learned patience in my extreme youth," sighed the man.
Seeing that the elephant was not quieting, Kudrat Sharif spoke now inpacifying tones--to the mahout:
"Come down among us who are your brothers; we have prepared all thingsfor your refreshment."
"I will come down with a full heart and an empty stomach, mostbeneficent, when this Majesty will permit," the strange mahout assentedwearily.
"Is he rough, son--to sit?" asked the very old man, coming closer.
The elephant shied a step and his mahout cuddled one ear with hisfingers, as he replied:
"He is the smoothest thing that ever moved upon the surface of theearth--like a wind driven by fiends. But he never stops."
The elephant was rolling more widely if anything, than at first; so themahouts stood back a little and considered him.
His blackness was like very old bronze, with certain metallic gleams init--like time-veiled copper and brass. His flawless frame was coveredwith tight-banded muscle. There was no appearance of fat. His skinwas smooth--without wrinkles. He was young; about forty years, orless. But there was the nick of a tusk-stroke in one ear; and a smallred devil in his eye.
Without warning, he flicked his mahout off his neck and set himprecisely on the ground--the movement so quick no eye could follow histrunk as it did it.
The youngest mahout brought a sheaf of tender branches--such as aremost desirable--and laid them near, but not too near; and when theelephant began to eat, they removed the burden of his mahout'spossessions from his back.
Then the man received their ministrations--keeping an eye on theelephant. When he was ready to smoke, he began slowly:
"Ram Yaksahn is my name; and my ancestors--from the first far breath oftradition--have been servants of the elephant people. We were of HighHimalaya till the man who was the man before my father. Since then weserve in the Vindha Hills. My twin brother was called with his master,to the teak jungles of the South; but I have been with thetrap-stockades till now, when they send me down to these plains withthe catch of all seasons."
"It is a good hearing," said the very old man, as they all bent theirheads; and the youngest mahout carefully arranged some specially goodtobacco in Ram Yaksahn's hookah.
"Now what is his record?" one asked.
"First, there is a record," Ram Yaksahn replied, "which may be his oranother's. It is your right to know.
"Four monsoons before this elephant was trapped, the body of a forestreserve officer was found on a mountain slope. The head was broken;and the ribs. Rains had washed away all earth-marks, but small treeshad been uprooted near that place; therefore the thing had been done byan elephant. Close by, a dead dog lay; entirely battered--and a splitstick. Burial was given to that man with few words. He was notmourned. May the gods render to him his due!"
The mahouts assented, as Ram Yaksahn smoked a moment.
"Be patient with me, most honourable," he went on, in strained tones."I come to you serving a strange master. The record I tell now, istruly your right to know."
"Have no fear; we serve with you!" Kudrat Sharif reassured him.
"Some months after this elephant was trapped," he continued, "they hadhim picketed in the working grounds--to learn the voices of men. Itwas there, in the midst of us all, that he killed his first mahout. Noman could prevent.
"That mahout was a violent man. He had just struck his own child anunlawful blow. She lay on the ground as the dead lie. Then it wasthat this elephant moved before any man could move. We heard hispicket stakes come up, but
we did not see them come up. No man couldprevent.
"He gathered the child's dead body in his trunk and swung it back andforth--back and forth. It hung like a cloth. Slowly he came nearer tohis mahout, while he swung the body of the child. When he was close,he laid the body between his own front feet. The violent man stoodwatching like one in a dream.
"Then this elephant who is now my master, caught the man who stoodwatching--as you saw him take me down, swiftly--and swung him, but in acircle. The man struck the ground on his head and it was broken; alsohis ribs."
Low murmurs of appreciation swelled among the listening mahouts. RamYaksahn bent his head.
"It was determined," he said with satisfaction, "by wise men ofauthority who rule such matters at the trap-stockades, that thiselephant had done just judgment; because the man had done murder.
"But we could not come close to this elephant--to link with hisleg-chains--for his threatening eye. That night and the next day, hekept the body between his feet--the body of the little child hekept--save when he swung it. No man could prevent.
"Then he left it" (Ram Yaksahn's voice suddenly went husky), "and cameto me--and put me on his neck. For this reason I am his to him; and heis mine to me!"
"Well done, well done!" the mellow voice of Kudrat Sharif spoke softly;and the mahouts of the Chief Commissioner's stockades assented.
"There is yet one thing," Ram Yaksahn resumed, "and I should cover myface to tell it. But if you learn that I am a fool of fools, considermy foolishness. His blackness is strange; his strength is mighty--ittook four to handle him, not two, in the beginning--and his quicknessis more quick than a man can think. Also, he has a red devil in hiseye.
"When my name was spoken after his name and my duty rendered me toserve him, I found he was indeed my master. We consider the creaturesof his kind are exalted above men; but I thought him a son of darkness,come up out of the pit. In my fool heart I did; and I do not know yet.
"At the time when he was trapped, I was in High Himalaya finding a fairwoman of lineage as good as my own--as my fathers have done. So whenthis last thing happened, not many weeks ago, a son of mine lay on hismother's breast. She came out with the child and sat near me. She wasteaching me that my son laughed. I saw only her; and knew only thather babe was strong.
"I forgot that this elephant browsed close by, having long picketchains to reach the tender branches. He came toward where we sat andstood looking at us; and I called on her to behold the red devil in hiseye. But I looked--not into his eye; and I did not see him uponus--till he lifted my son from her breast. I saw the little body swingup, far above my head--the so very little body--and I heard her cry inthe same breath."
Ram Yaksahn laid his forehead against his fists and softly beat hishead. Looking up with drawn features, he went on:
"My face was in the grasses when I heard her laugh. Then I saw thebabe--not longer than a man's arm--slowly swinging in my master'strunk, back and forth--back and forth. The little one was makingnoises of content--such as babes use--when my master laid him verygently between his own front feet. The child spread his hands,reaching up for the curling tip above his face.
"Now it has been said that I am not lacking in courage; but in thathour I was without sense to know courage or fear. The fingers of colddeath felt along my veins and searched out the marrow of my bones; forwhen I leaped to take the babe--I met the red threat in my master'seye. But the mother of my son went like a blown leaf and stoopedbetween this elephant's feet, to lift up her first man-child.
"She came away with him safe; and this elephant swayed before us, atthe end of his picket chains, stretching his quivering trumpet-tiptoward the babe--with flaming fires in his eyes.
"The daughter of High Himalayan mahouts called this black majesty 'NutKut'; and they have added that name on the Government books. But theywill not take his first name away. I have finished."
And Ram Yaksahn gave himself to his hookah--still keeping his eye onNut Kut.
"His first name has not been told," mildly reminded the very old man.
"His first name is Nut Kut!" said Ram Yaksahn with decision. "But hislast name is Pyar-awaz."
All the mahouts laughed; translating the double name in their ownminds---Mischief, the Voice-of-Love.
"We have no violent men in these stockades," said Kudrat Sharif,speaking to them all. "And we do not find that Ram Yaksahn was lackingin courage. We will prove the nature of Nut Kut with kindness."
His decision was conclusive; and they proceeded to encourage the mightyblack into his own enclosure.
This was the coming of Nut Kut to the Chief Commissioner's elephantstockades at Hurda. As time went by, the attraction of his mysteriousnature inflamed the mahouts with interest; and also with concern--forhe was a fearsome fighter.
Carlin had gone to a sick sister-in-law for a few days; and assoon as he heard of it, Dickson Sahib had driven to the M'Cordbungalow--realising that without her it would be desolate to his youngAmerican friend. Protesting that he needed someone to come and breakhis own loneliness, he carried Skag home.
So just now Skag was smoking his after-tiffin cigarette in the verandahof Dickson Sahib's big bungalow. The great Highway-of-all-India, withits triple avenue, its monarch trees, swept past the front of thegrounds. Several times from here, he had seen a big elephant gojoyously rolling by. He could tell it was joyous; and the man on itsneck was usually singing.
The very smell of elephants had always stirred Skag--like all cleangood earth-smells in one. When he was animal trainer in the circus,the elephants had not been his special charge; but he had seen a gooddeal of them. They looked to him like convicts; or manikins--moving tothe pull of the hour-string. They were incessantly being loaded,unloaded, made to march; cooped in small, stuffy places--chained.
He wanted to see elephants--herds of them! He wanted to see them inmultitudes, working for men in their own way; using their ownintelligence. He wanted to see them in their own jungles--living theirown lives.
Sooner or later he meant to see them, all ways. He had come to India,the land of elephants, partly for that reason; but in the Mahadeomountains he had found none--nor in the great Grass Jungle. Yet he hadlearned that when he wanted anything--way back in the inside ofhimself--he was due to get it. To-day this thing was gnawing more thanever before; he wanted elephants--hard.
Dickson Sahib came out on his way back to the offices and stopped tofinish their tiffin conversation:
"I'm glad you're interested in young Horace; you're going to be no endgood for him, I can see that. You'll find him far too mature for hisyears. His brain's too active; but he's not abnormal. His tutors callhim insatiable; but from his babyhood the breath of his life has beenelephants. He's taken a lot from the learned natives; they talk withhim as if he were quite grown--half of it I couldn't follow myself."
"That is extraordinary to me," said Skag.
"Of course it is. But there's been nothing else for it. My own daysare quite tied up, and his mother--the climate, you know. So you seewhat I mean, he's really needing--just you."
Dickson's eyes turned on a little fellow who stood alone, further downthe verandah. Then his face shadowed, as he spoke in a lower tone:
"I said he's not abnormal--that should be qualified. Several years agohe was carried home from the Chief Commissioner's elephant stockades bytheir governing mahout, Kudrat Sharif. The servants said he was cryingand fighting to go back; but otherwise seemed quite himself. When Icame from the offices in the evening, however, he was in a fever;raving about Nut Kut--raving about Nut Kut for days--always wanting togo back to Nut Kut.
"I went after the governing mahout and he said the child had played toohard; and that was why they brought him home. Kudrat Sharif is agraceful man, with much dignity; but I always felt he held something inreservation."
"What about Nut Kut?" Skag asked.
"Nut Kut is a great black elephant, trapped in the Vindha Hills only afew years ag
o. He's young and I've heard he's a dangerous fighter. Myson likes him; but I can't get over believing he's responsible for thehigh nerve tension the boy always carries. But don't let Horace annoyyou." Dickson Sahib finished hurriedly. "You're his first love, youknow!"
Any man knows the kind of thrill when he's told that a boy has fallenin love with him; but the lad's interest in elephants--reminding Skagof his own--made him specially worth considering. The little figuresuggested dynamic power rather than physical strength. The hair wasdull brown, with an overcast of pale flame on it; the skin too white.But the eyes held Skag. They were pure grey, full of smoulderingshadows and high lights--forever contending with each other. At thismoment the boy was leaning his head toward the road, listening.
"She's petulant to-day, the lady!" he chuckled. "Wait till you seeMitha Baba, Skag Sahib."
Down through the great trees a handsome female elephant approached,careering at a curious choppy gait. With her trunk well up, she wastrumpeting every third step.
"What's the matter with her?" Skag asked.
"She's abused, Skag Sahib." The boy became a bit embarrassed;hesitating, before he went on: "The Hakima used to speak to herwhenever she passed Miss Annesley's bungalow; and now--she's not thereto do it."
Horace waved his hand to Mitha Baba's mahout; and the mahout shoutedsomething in a dialect Skag did not know.
"He's awfully proud of Mitha Baba; and it's true, Skag Sahib, thereisn't anything in grey beyond her; but--" Horace stopped, suddenlygone wistful.
"What's the trouble?" Skag asked, startled.
"They won't let me near him--they won't let me! I want him more thananything I know--"
"Then you'll get him!" interrupted Skag.
It must have been the sureness in Skag's voice, that made some chokingtightness way back in the boy's soul let go; whole vistas ofpossibilities opened up.
"We're going to get on, you know--I'm sure of it!" he saidbreathlessly. "If only I were old enough to be your friend!"
Skag remembered the father's words.
"I've never had a friend younger than myself," he answered, "and thereare only a few years difference--why not?"
Their hands met as men. And it was still early in the afternoon.
Horace went into the house and spoke with a servant. Coming out, hetook a long minute to get some excitement well in hand before speaking:
"I've arranged for one thing to show you, already! My boy will be backfrom the bazaar soon, to let me know whether the time will be to-day orto-morrow. It's a surprise--if you don't mind, Skag Sahib."
"All right, then what is the most interesting thing you know about?"Skag asked.
"Elephants. No question."
"Have you many here in Hurda?"
"Not any belonging to Hurda; but our Chief Commissioner has fortyGovernment elephants in his stockades--the finest ever. Neela Deo, theBlue God--who is the leader of the caravan--the mahouts say there isn'tan elephant in the world to touch him; and Mitha Baba and GunpatRao--they're famous in all India. And Nut Kut; indeed, Skag Sahib, youshould see Nut Kut. They don't allow strangers about where he is; he'sthe one--the mahouts won't let me go near him."
"What's wrong with him?" Skag asked.
"I don't know; I'm always wondering. In the beginning--when I waslittle--but I don't believe it was--wrong."
The boy spoke haltingly, frowning; but went on:
"That's between Nut Kut and--Horace Dickson! I like him better thananything I know. The mahouts have tried every way to discourageme--yes, they have!"
"What does he do?" Skag questioned.
"You know Government does _not_ permit elephant fighting," the boybegan solemnly, "but--Nut Kut doesn't know it! His pet scheme is tobreak away out of his own stockades, if there are any elephants acrossthe river--that's where the regiments camp--and get in among themilitary elephants. He's a frightful fighter."
"How do they handle him?" Skag asked.
"It takes more than two of their best males to do it--big trainedfellows, you understand. Even then, usually, one of the great femalescomes with her chain--the kind they call 'mother-things'--she handlesit with her trunk. Just one little flick across his ears and anyfighter will be willing to stop--even Nut Kut. But it's to see, SkagSahib; never twice the same--it can't be told."
A servant came in from the highway, salaaming before Horace andreporting that the _tamasha_ would occur at the usual time thisafternoon--afternoon; not evening.
"Then we'll have tea, at once!" Horace interrupted him. "Quick! tellthe butler."
After tea they walked along the great Highway-of-all-India, by the edgeof the native town and over the low stone bridge. Beyond the river,they passed acres of tenting. A glamour of dust lay in the slantingsun-rays. An intense earth-smell penetrated Skag's senses. A feel ofexcitement was in the air.
"Where are the elephants?" Skag asked.
"How do you know it's elephants?" the boy countered.
"Several ways; but last of all, I smell 'em."
"It is elephants--much elephants. You are to see them in one of theirbig works in the Indian elephant-military department."
This announcement of the programme instantly made Skag forget that hehad come out with a lad in need of healthy comradeship.
"What work?" he asked.
"This is elephant concerns, Skag Sahib," the boy replied; "they workwith men and they work for men, but no one knows what they think aboutthe man-end of it; because they are always and always doing things mennever expect. They do funny things and strange things and wonderfulthings. It's the inside working of an elephant regiment, that makes itso different from anything else.
"It's all tied up with men on the outside; but you mustn't notice theoutside. Inside is what I mean--the elephant concerns. No one knowswhat it will be to-day."
"Have you forgotten Nut Kut?" smiled Skag.
"Not ever!" the boy answered quickly, "but even if he doesn'tcome--they almost always do something interesting. That's why we nevercall them animals or beasts, but sometimes creatures--because they havea kind of intelligence we have not. And that's why we _always_ speakof them as persons."
"I like that," Skag put in.
"From end to end of India," the boy went on, "down Bombay side and upCalcutta side, regiments of elephants go with regiments of men--in thenever-ending fatigue marching that keeps them all fit.
"The tenting and commissariat-stuff is carried by the elephants,straight from camp to camp, safe and sure and in proper time--always.That's the point, you understand, Skag Sahib--they never run away withit, or lose it, or go aside into the jungle to eat. You're going tosee one regiment start out to-day.
"The man-regiment will go another road--a little longer, but not sorough. The elephant regiment will go by themselves, just one mahout oneach neck--like you would carry a mouse. Really, they go on their ownhonour; because men have no power to control them--only with theirvoices. You know Government doesn't permit elephants to be shot, foranything--only in case one is court-martialled and sentenced to die."
"Don't the mahouts ever punish them?" Skag asked.
"They're not allowed to torture them--never mind what! And men can'tpunish elephants any other way--they're not big enough."
Then a voice rolled out of the dust-glamour before them. In qualityand reach and power, it reminded Skag of a marvel voice that used tocall newspapers in the big railway station in Chicago.
"Whose voice?" he asked Horace.
"That's the master-mahout. He calls the elephants; you'll see. He'sthe only kind of mahout who ever gets pay for himself."
"How's that?"
"It's what makes the elephant-military a proper department. Onlyelephant names on the books; the pay goes to them. The mahout isalways an elephant's servant; he eats from his master, of course. Fromthe outside it saves a lot of trouble, to be sure."
Skag laughed. From the elephant standpoint, a small Englishman wasconceding a certain amount of c
onvenience to men.
"You see," the boy went on, "an elephant lives anyway more than ahundred years; and his name stays just like that and draws pay withoutchanging. Always a mahout's son takes his place, when he gets too oldor dies. I can recall when Mitha Baba's mahout was one of the mostwonderful of them all. Now he has gone old, as they say; and his sonis on her neck."
There was a moment when Skag would have given his soul--almost--if hemight have grown up in India, as this child was growing up; in theheart of her ancient knowledges--in the breath of her mystic power.Then a great plain opened before them. It appeared at first glance,completely full of elephants.
. . . The glamour of sun-drenched dust hung over all.
Looking more closely, Skag saw nothing but elephant ranks toward theright, and nothing but elephant ranks toward the left; but in thecentre, a large area was covered with separate piles of dunnage, evenlydistributed.
From where he stood toward where the sun would set--a broad divisionstretched; and in the middle of this division, a single line of loadedelephants filed away and away to the horizon.
. . . Skag became oblivious. He was so thralled with the sight that hedid not notice what was nearer. The whole panorama held his breathtill right before him a great creature rose from sitting--without asound. There was a dignity about its movement not less than majestic.It was a mighty load; but the huge shape slid away as smooth as flowingwater--as easy as a drifting cloud.
A deep voice said quietly:
"Peace, master; go thy way. Peace, son."
"Did he speak to both of them?" Skag asked of Horace.
"Yes; the first part was to the elephant and the last part was to themahout. This mahout must be one of the great ones, else themaster-mahout would not have spoken to him. But he will always speakto the elephants--something."
A strange name filled the air, rolling up and away. It was followed bya courteous request, in softer tones; and Skag watched another bigelephant approach from the unpicketed lines. It came to where themaster-mahout stood, close to a pile of tenting, wheeled to face theway it should go presently, and sank down to be loaded.
Men did the lifting into place and the lashing on. There was detail inthe process, to which the elephant adjusted his body as intelligentlyas they adjusted theirs. When they required to reach under with thebroad canvas bands, he rose a little without being told. Indeed theyseldom spoke even to each other; and then in undertones. Theelephant's mahout sat in his place on the neck, as if he were a part ofthe neck itself.
The smoothness, the ease of it all, amazed Skag. That every goodnight, spoken to every separate elephant, was different--peculiar toitself--was no less astounding. It was never as if addressed to ananimal, or even to a child; but always as if to a mature andunderstanding intelligence. As when the master-mahout said to onefemale:
"Fortune to thee, great Lady. May the gods guard that foot. And havea care in going down the khuds--it is that mercy should be shown us,thy friends."
And again to a young male, whose movements were very self-conscious:
"Remember there is to be no tamasha to-night, thou son of destiny. Itis not yet in thy head--to determine when shall be tamasha. Fiftyyears hence, and when wisdom shall be come to thee, thou heir ofancient learning, then we shall have tamasha at thy bidding."
. . . A monster female came at the call of her name, with a long heavychain--one end securely attached to her. The other end she handledwith her trunk. Advancing to within a few feet of the master-mahout,she stood facing him, teetering her whole body from side to side,swinging her chain as she rolled.
Horace flashed away and ran in among the massed elephants and mahouts.Coming back to Skag, he said breathlessly:
"A mahout says the other one went before we came! That means, if NutKut comes--there'll be no one to manage him. You remember, Skag Sahib,I told you about the 'mother-thing'--if anyone starts a fight, shebreaks it up with her chain; better than any two or three fightingmales. Two tuskers just wake Nut Kut up!"
Then he stood staring at the female with her chain--getting red in theface as he spoke:
"Oh, I say! She doesn't want to be loaded; and she knows! Why, theyknow she knows! . . . Master-mahout!" he called in brave tones thattrembled, "I am Dickson Sahib's son--of the grain-foods department--"
"We know you, Sahib, salaam!" interrupted the master-mahout, with asmile.
"Is it not the unwritten-law that the great 'mother-thing' shall beobeyed?" the boy quavered.
"It is the unwritten-law, Sahib; and we will not impose our will onher. It is this, there is no sign of what she means; the masters areall quiet to-day--there is no warning of _tamasha_."
The master-mahout spoke with grave consideration; but just as hefinished, the "mother-thing" wheeled into place and went down to takeher load.
"Cheer up, son, I guess it's all right," comforted Skag.
"It's all right--if Nut Kut doesn't come," said the boy, whimsically.
"So 'tamasha' sometimes means trouble?" queried Skag, remembering thetamer definition he had learned.
"It means anything anybody considers entertaining!" answered Horace."By preference--an elephant fight! Remember, Government doesn't allow'em; but sometimes they just happen anyway."
Then an elephant failed to answer. Several mahouts left their placesand went to one spot; and Skag saw the one who had been called. He wassitting low against the ground, slowly rocking his head from side toside. A mahout was examining his ears--folding them back and feelingof them--laying his cheek against the inside surface.
"Is he sick?" Skag asked.
But the boy's eyes were wide upon the broad avenue before them, wherethe loaded elephants went marching away. Then he burst out, in chokingexcitement:
"Look, Skag Sahib! See that loaded elephant coming back from the line?I think you are going to see one of the most wonderful things that everhappened. They say it has been done; but I've never seen it--I'venever seen it myself."
Skag saw a powerful elephant coming back alongside the loaded line. Hedid not move with the same smooth flowing motion as the others. Hewalked as if he were coming on important business. With a load on hisback, he returned and sank down beside the pile of tenting intended foranother elephant.
"What's the meaning of it?" Skag asked.
Little Horace Dickson answered in a hushed way--as one in the presenceof a miracle:
"It is one of the regulars, come back to take a part of what belongs tothe sick elephant."
Skag looked at the boy's face, in incredulous amazement. It waslit--awe and exaltation were both there. Then he noticed the look ofthe master-mahout--that was a revelation.
. . . They were putting half as much again on top of the already loadedelephant.
. . . Certain phrases went through Skag's brain, as he watched thething done--over and over. _No one had called this elephant back. Hecame before they knew themselves that an elephant was sick. When themahouts first went to examine the sick one--this one was already on theway. How did he know?_
The extra loaded elephant rose and started again. Then a great shoutwent up. Tones of many voices filled the slanting sun-rays in all theglamour of dust. The wonderful voice of the master-mahout loomed aboveall:
"Wisdom and excellence are thy parts, oh Thou! Justice andkindness--we who are poor in them--will learn of thee! Thou son ofstrength, thou child of ancient knowledges and worth!"
And the mahouts shouted again!
At that moment Skag knew as well as he knew anything in life, that hestood somewhere in the outer courts of a great animal-cult; and he wasconvinced that it was of a mystic nature--however that could be. Heswore in his heart that he would never give up, till he got further in.
The master-mahout's voice ascended now on a strange call. It was alift-lift-lifting tone.
"What does that mean?" Skag asked.
"All the elephants know that--it's the lifting call," Horace explained."When an elephant is
sick--unless they have an extra number in theregiment--they always call for two to volunteer; and they divide theload of the sick elephant between them. They use these tones insteadof a name--just for that. There comes a male now, to take the rest ofthis load."
Skag watched the added load going into place on the volunteer. It wasalmost finished, when a trumpet blast sounded directly behindhim--toward Hurda. Several elephants answered from the regiment; andmany mahouts called to each other.
"Is that the bad fighter coming?" Skag asked.
"Yes, Skag Sahib, that's Nut Kut. But I don't know just what you'regoing to see--the ones who ought to handle him are all gone."
The master-mahout's voice was rising up into the vault of heaven andfalling over upon the horizon. It seemed to Skag the like was neverheard before.
"He's calling the two big tuskers back," Horace chuckled, "but there'llbe doings on before they get here! Will you listen to Nut Kut'schallenge?"
Skag turned to face the looming trumpet tones. There were no tonesbehind him like them. Smooth and mellow, they were yet so full ofpower as to make all the others sound insignificant. They were likelove-tones translated into thunder.
But when Nut Kut came in sight, Skag caught his breath. The shape wasmade of gleaming bronze. No detail showed; it was a thing that tookthe eye and the breath and the blood. There was no look of effort inits inscrutable motion.
They stood in the open, between this thing and the regiment behind.There was no obstruction. And Skag moved to be between it andHorace--when it should pass them on its way. The regiment ofthoroughly trained elephants were standing firmly in their places; butthey were making the welkin ring with a thousand trumpets in the air.
Certainly Skag knew that this incredible thing before him--bigger everysecond--was Nut Kut. He looked to see why the great challenge-toneshad stopped, and revelation went through him--like an explosion. NutKut had seen Horace and was coming straight for him.
Skag leaped to meet Nut Kut first, but he couldn't catch the elephant'seye. The huge shape was upon him and he was flung aside. Recoveringhimself almost instantly, he got around in time to see--but not in timeto prevent.
Horace lifted both arms and leaned forward--his grey eyes goneblack--as Nut Kut's trunk caught him. A little broken cry came fromhim and his death-white face hung down an instant--from high up.
Then, backing away, swaying from side to side, Nut Kut set his eyes onthe man who followed--his red eyes, blazing with red warning. TheAmerican animal trainer did not fail to understand; he paused.
Slowly the great bronze trunk curled and cuddled about Horace Dickson'sbody and began to swing him. Skag knew that elephants swing men whenthey intend to kill them; and he heard a low moaning--like wind--riseup from the multitude of mahouts behind.
. . . Further and further the boy swung in the elephant's trunk, backand forth--back and forth. Unnatural tones startled Skag--soundinglike delirium. Nut Kut put little Horace Dickson down, close under hisown throat, his long trunk curling outside--always curlingabout--feeling up and down the boy's limbs, his frame, his face. Thesmall mouth was open; the little red tongue--flickering.
Horace seemed oblivious; but when he laughed aloud. Nut Kut caught himup again--lightning quick. This time he swung the boy higher, till herounded a perfect circle in the air; backing still further away andlifting his head. Nut Kut flung him round and round and yetaround--faster and yet faster.
The moaning--like wind--still came from behind.
After endless time--like perdition--Skag heard Horace gasping, choking.He thought there were words; but couldn't be sure. And while this wasgoing on. Nut Kut brought the boy down--flat on the ground. Theimpact must have broken a man. But Horace got to his feet--staggeringin the circle of the trunk--looking dazed.
Now Skag moved forward, holding his hands out--as he came nearer to thebig black head.
"I know you now, Nut Kut," he said quietly, "you're white inside allright. You're not meaning to hurt him. You like him--so do I."
But Nut Kut backed away, gathering the boy with him, looking down intothe American's eyes--the red danger signals flaring up in his own again.
"Nut Kut, old man," Skag reasoned in perfectly natural tones, "youcan't bluff me. I tell you, I know you. I know you as well as if wecame out of the same egg!"
Nut Kut was still backing away and Skag was following up.
"You may take me, if you want--I can't let you wear him out, you know."
And then, while Nut Kut wrapped about and drew Horace in closer, Skaglaid his fingers on the great bronze trunk, gently but firmlystroking--the red eyes focused in his own. For seconds the man and theelephant looked into each other. Suddenly Nut Kut loosed Horace andlaid hold on Skag.
The moaning ascended and broke--like wind going up a mountain khud.There was nothing certain to the mahouts, but that this man of couragewould be dashed to death before their eyes.
Skag squirmed in the grip about his body as Nut Kut held him high. Itlooked as if he were being crushed. But when he got his hands on thetrunk again, he laughed. Now Nut Kut lowered him quickly--holding himbefore his own red eyes. The touch of the elephant was the touch of amaster. But the eyes of the man were mastership itself.
. . . They were just so, when Ram Yaksahn--with a ghastly haggardface--lurched from behind Nut Kut, fairly sobbing. Nut Kut jerked Skagtight (it was like a hug), released him deliberately and turning, puthis own sick mahout up on his own neck, with a movement that lookedlike a flick of his trunk.
"Now easy, Majesty, go easy with me--indeed I am very ill!" Ram Yaksahnprotested in plaintive tones, as Nut Kut wheeled away with him.
Seeing Horace in the hands of a strange native--and certainlyrecovering--Skag looked away toward Hurda and wonder aloud if Nut Kutwould be punished. It was the master-mahout who answered him:
"Nay, Sahib. He has done no harm."
"I'd like to have a chance with him," said Skag.
The master-mahout smiled--a mystic-musical smile, like his voice.
"I have come from my place for a moment," he said, looking intentlyinto Skag's eyes, "for a purpose. We have heard of you, Son-of-Power.The wisdom of the ages is to know the instant when to act; not toolate, not too soon. We have seen you work this day; and the fame of itwill go before and after you, the length and breadth of India--amongthe mahouts."
He turned, pointing toward the elephant regiment. Many mahouts wereshouting something together; their right hands flung high.
"It is right for you to know," the master-mahout went on, "that mahoutsare a kind of men by themselves apart. Their knowledges are ofelephants--sealed--not open to those from without. Yet I speak as oneof my kind, being qualified, if in the future you have need of anythingfrom us--it is yours."
And without giving Skag a chance to answer him, but with a statelygesture of salaam, the master-mahout had returned to his place and wascalling another elephant.
Skag turned toward Horace, who was drawing a fine lookingnative forward by the hand. The boy spoke with repressedexcitement--otherwise showing no sign of Nut Kut's strenuous handling:
"Skag Sahib, I want you to know Kudrat Sharif, the malik of the ChiefCommissioner's elephant stockades. It is not known, youunderstand--meaning my father--but the malik has always been verywonderful to me."
Kudrat Sharif smiled with frank affection on the boy, as he drew hisright hand away, to touch his forehead in the Indian salaam. Thegesture showed both grace and dignity--as Dickson Sahib had said.
"I am exalted to carry back to my stockades the story of the manner ofyour work, Son-of-Power," he began.
"My name is Sanford Hantee," Skag deprecated gently.
"But you will always be known to Indians of India as Son-of-Power!"Kudrat Sharif protested. "It is a lofty title, yet you haveestablished it before many."
Just then a great elephant came near, playfully reaching for KudratSharif with his trunk.
"And this is Neela Deo, the lea
der of the caravan!" laughed Horace.
"It is my shame that there is no howdah on him to carry you; we camelike flight, when Nut Kut's escape was known," Kudrat Sharifapologised. "But after some days, when Nut Kut's excitement sleeps, weshall be distinguished if Son-of-Power chooses to come to the stockadesand consider him.
"I heard your judgment of his nature, Sahib; and I say with humilitythat I shall remember it, in what I have to do with the most strangeelephant I have ever met. Truly we are not sure of Nut Kut, whether heis a mighty being of extreme exaltation, above others of his kind inthe world, or--a prince from the pit!"
Kudrat Sharif salaamed again; and Neela Deo lifted him to his greatneck and carried him away.
Walking home, Horace expressed himself to his friend--as the heart of aboy may be expressed; and Skag dropped his arm about the slendershoulders, speaking softly:
"Remember, son, a little more--would have been too much."
"All right, Skag Sahib, because now you understand; but--isn't heinteresting?"
Knowing well what the boy meant about the great strange creature--morethan his fighting propensities, deeper than his physical might--Skagassented thoughtfully:
"Yes; I would like to know him better."