Part 7 (1/2)

”My elephant is no _shaitan_. He is _Gunesh_, the G.o.d _Gunesh_ himself. He will let no harm come to the sahib, who is safe under his protection.”

The other Hindus among the elephant attendants nodded agreement.

”_Such bath_ (true words),” they said. ”Who knows what the G.o.ds purpose?

Which of you has ever before seen any man stop a _dhantwallah_ (tusker) when the madness was upon him? Which of ye has known a white man to have a power that even we have not, we whose fathers, whose forefathers for generations, have tended elephants?”

”Ye speak true talk,” said the first speaker. ”The Prophet tells us there are no G.o.ds. But _afrits_ there are, _djinns_--beings more than man. What know we of those with whom the sahib communes when he and Badshah go forth alone into the forest?”

”The sahib is not as other sahibs,” broke in an old coolie. ”I was with him before--in Buxa Duar. There is naught in the jungle that can puzzle him. He knows its ways, the speech of the men in it--ay, and of its animals, too.

He was a great _s.h.i.+kari_ (hunter) in those old days. Many beasts have fallen to his gun. Yet now he goes forth for days and brings back no heads.

What does he?”

”For days, say you, Chotu?” queried another _mahout_. ”Ay, for more than days. For nights. What man among us, what man even of these wild men around us, would willingly pa.s.s a night in the forest?”

”True talk,” agreed the old Mohammedan. ”Which of us would care to lie down alone beside his elephant in the jungle all night? Yet the sahib sleeps there--if he does sleep--without fear. And no harm comes to him.”

Ramnath slowly shook his head.

”The sahib does not sleep. Nor is there aught in the forest that can do him harm. Or my elephant either. The _budmash_ tried to kill the sahib, and Badshah protected him. When the big snake attacked Badshah, the sahib saved him.

”But what do they in the forest?” asked Chotu again. ”Tell me that, Ramnath-_ji_.”

Once more Ramnath shook his head.

”What know we? We are black men. What knowledge have we of what the sahibs do, of what they can do? They go under the sea in s.h.i.+ps, beneath the land in carriages. So say the sepoys who have been to _Vilayet_ (Europe). They fly in the air like birds. That have I seen with my own eyes at Delhi----”

”And I at Lah.o.r.e,” broke in the old Mohammedan.

”And I at Nucklao (Lucknow),” said a third.

”But never yet was there a man, black man or sahib, who could hold a _dhantwallah_ when the mad fit was on him, as our sahib has done,”

continued Ramnath. ”He is under the protection of the G.o.ds.”

Even the Mohammedans among his audience nodded a.s.sent. Their _mullah_ taught them that the G.o.ds of the Hindu were devils. But who knew? Mecca was far away, and the jungle with its demons was very near them. Among the various creeds in India there is a wide tolerance and a readiness to believe that there may be something of truth in all the faiths that men profess. A Hindu will hang a wreath of marigolds on the tomb of a Mohammedan _pir_--a Mussulman saint--and recite a _mantra_, if he knows one, before it as readily as he will before the shrine of Siva.

While the superst.i.tious elephant attendants talked, Badshah was moving at a fast shambling pace along animal paths through the forest farther and farther away from the _peelkhana_. Wild beasts always follow a track through the jungle, even a man-made road, in preference to forcing a way through the undergrowth for themselves. As he was borne swiftly along, his rider felt that, although the elephant had allowed him to mount to his accustomed place, it would resent any attempts at restraint or guidance.

But indeed Dermot had no wish to control it. He was filled with an immense desire to learn the mystery of Badshah's frequent disappearances. The Major was convinced that the animal had a definite objective in view, so purposeful was his manner. For he went rapidly on, never pausing to feed, unlike the usual habit of elephants which, when they can, eat all their waking time. But Badshah held straight on rapidly without stopping. He was proceeding in a direction that took him at an angle away from the line of the Himalayas, and the character of the forest altered as he went.

Near the foot of the hills the graceful plumes of the bamboo and the broad drooping leaves of the plantain, the wild banana, were interspersed with the vivid green leaves and fruit of the limes. Then came the big trees, from which the myriad creepers hung in graceful festoons. Here the undergrowth was scanty and the ground covered with tall bracken in the open glades, which gave the jungle the appearance of an English wood.

Farther on the trees were closer together and the track led through dense undergrowth. Then through a border of high elephant-gra.s.s with feathery tops it emerged on to a broad, dry river-bed of white sand strewn with rounded boulders rolled down from the hills. The sudden change from the pleasant green gloom of the forest to the harsh glare of the brilliant suns.h.i.+ne was startling. As they crossed the open Dermot looked up at the giant rampart of the mountains and saw against the dark background of their steep slopes the grey wall of Fort and bungalows in the little outpost of Ranga Duar high above the forest.

Then the jungle closed round them again, as Badshah plunged into the high gra.s.s bordering the far side of the river-bed, its feathery plumes sixteen feet from the ground. On through low th.o.r.n.y trees and scrub to the huge bulks and thick, leafy canopy of the giant _simal_ and teak once more. The further they went from the hills the denser, more tropical became the undergrowth. The soil was damper and supported a richer, more luxuriant vegetation. Cane brakes through which even elephants and bison would find it hard to push a way, tree ferns of every kind, feathery bushes set thick with cruel hooked thorns, mingled with the great trees, between which the creepers rioted in wilder confusion than ever.

The heat was intense. The air grew moist and steamy, and the sweat trickled down Dermot's face. The earth underfoot was sodden and slushy. Little streams began to trickle, for the water from the mountains ten miles away that sinks into the soil at the foot of the hills and flows to the south underground, here rises to the surface and gives the whole forest its name--Terai, that is, ”wet.”

Slimy pools lurked in the undergrowth. In one the ugly snout of a small crocodile protruded from the muddy, noisome water, and the cold, unwinking eyes stared at elephant and man as they pa.s.sed. The rank abundant foliage overhung the track and brushed or broke against Badshah's sides, as he shouldered his way through it.