They sat in comfort under the feathery branches of tall tamarisk trees, smoking their water-pipes, after the sunset meal. It was the time for talk.
"A good beginning," said a very old man near by, "it being wise, in case of doubt, to stop the mouth of—who might speak afterward6."
"And the men of my line," proceeded the youngest mahout, without embarrassment7, "have been illustrious—save those who are forgotten. They all have been of High Himalaya; yet I am the least among you. I render homage8 of Hill blood, hot and full, to every one of you—my elders—because you are all mahouts of High Himalaya, even as my fathers 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 a mahout from the Vindha Hills; and an unreputed elephant—from the hills without repute?"
"Softly, young one, softly!" a mahout in his full prime made swift answer. "Truly it is well the young are not permitted to use that untamed strength in speech, which is best governed by the waste of sinew!"
"Will he who is most wise among us, enlighten the darkness of him who is most foolish?"
"It is that elephants of great repute have come from the Vindha Hills; and mahouts of great learning. Also, there is a luminous12 tradition that the most exalted13 creatures of their kind—those who travelled far from the high lands of Persia long ago—chose place for their future generations in the Vindha Hills; and not in High Himalaya."
This man who had first rebuked14 sternly and afterward explained with extreme gentleness, was Kudrat Sharif, the mahout of Neela Deo—mighty15 leader of their caravan16. He was malik—which is to say, governing mahout—over them all; and best qualified17 among them. Therefore a clamour rose for more. The youngest mahout went from his place and sat near, as Kudrat Sharif continued:
"The black elephants are all but gone. Not more than one in a generation of men is seen any more. They are seldom toiled18 into the trap-stockades, in which the less wary19 are taken. The natures of those who have been snared20 are strange to us of the High Hills. They sometimes destroy men in their anger; they sometimes destroy themselves in their grief."
"What is the heart of this knowledge?" asked a man who had not spoken before.
"That these stockades are distinguished21 by Government," Kudrat Sharif replied. "The elephant who is to reach us this evening, is a black elephant—descended from the lines of ancient Persia."
A chorus of exclamations22 swept the circle, before the gurgle of hookahs took the moment, as the mahouts gave themselves to meditation23 and water-winnowed smoke.
The man who said these words was not less than magical in his power to control the unruly; but he never took credit to himself. "That is the voice of a fighter—smooth as curds27 of cream—and it reaches from far out; very far out."
These mahouts had trained ears; and they listened—computing the stranger's rate of speed. The fullness of tone increased; and presently one said:
"He comes fast."
But they were not prepared to see the elephant that rolled into the glare of their torches out of the night.
He came to pause in the centre of the exercise arena—a vast sanded disk just front of the stockade buildings—and stood rocking his huge body, tamping29 the ground with his feet as if still travelling. The mahout on his neck spoke to him patiently:
"Now will my master use his intelligence to understand that we have arrived?"
Then turning to the men on the ground, the strange mahout said wistfully:
"Look on me with compassion30, oh men of honour and of fame! I have heard of you, but you have not heard of me."
"We have heard of you, that you are the making of a master-mahout, in due time," answered Kudrat Sharif.
"Then the gods who preserved my fathers to old age, have not forgotten that I learned patience in my extreme youth," sighed the man.
Seeing that the elephant was not quieting, Kudrat Sharif spoke now in pacifying31 tones—to the mahout:
"Come down among us who are your brothers; we have prepared all things for your refreshment32."
"I will come down with a full heart and an empty stomach, most beneficent, when this Majesty33 will permit," the strange mahout assented34 wearily.
"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 his fingers, as he replied:
"He is the smoothest thing that ever moved upon the surface of the earth—like a wind driven by fiends. But he never stops."
The elephant was rolling more widely if anything, than at first; so the mahouts stood back a little and considered him.
His blackness was like very old bronze, with certain metallic35 gleams in it—like time-veiled copper36 and brass37. His flawless frame was covered with tight-banded muscle. There was no appearance of fat. His skin was smooth—without wrinkles. He was young; about forty years, or less. But there was the nick of a tusk-stroke in one ear; and a small red devil in his eye.
Without warning, he flicked39 his mahout off his neck and set him precisely41 on the ground—the movement so quick no eye could follow his trunk as it did it.
The youngest mahout brought a sheaf of tender branches—such as are most desirable—and laid them near, but not too near; and when the elephant began to eat, they removed the burden of his mahout's possessions from his back.
Then the man received their ministrations—keeping an eye on the elephant. When he was ready to smoke, he began slowly:
"Ram38 Yaksahn is my name; and my ancestors—from the first far breath of tradition—have been servants of the elephant people. We were of High Himalaya till the man who was the man before my father. Since then we serve in the Vindha Hills. My twin brother was called with his master, to the teak jungles of the South; but I have been with the trap-stockades till now, when they send me down to these plains with the catch of all seasons."
"It is a good hearing," said the very old man, as they all bent their heads; and the youngest mahout carefully arranged some specially42 good tobacco in Ram Yaksahn's hookah.
"Now what is his record?" one asked.
"First, there is a record," Ram Yaksahn replied, "which may be his or another's. It is your right to know.
"Four monsoons43 before this elephant was trapped, the body of a forest reserve officer was found on a mountain slope. The head was broken; and the ribs44. Rains had washed away all earth-marks, but small trees had been uprooted45 near that place; therefore the thing had been done by an elephant. Close by, a dead dog lay; entirely46 battered—and a split stick. Burial was given to that man with few words. He was not mourned. 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, is truly your right to know."
"Some months after this elephant was trapped," he continued, "they had him picketed49 in the working grounds—to learn the voices of men. It was there, in the midst of us all, that he killed his first mahout. No man could prevent.
"That mahout was a violent man. He had just struck his own child an unlawful blow. She lay on the ground as the dead lie. Then it was that this elephant moved before any man could move. We heard his picket48 stakes come up, but we did not see them come up. No man could prevent.
"He gathered the child's dead body in his trunk and swung it back and forth50—back and forth. It hung like a cloth. Slowly he came nearer to his 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 stood watching like one in a dream.
"Then this elephant who is now my master, caught the man who stood watching—as you saw him take me down, swiftly—and swung him, but in a circle. The man struck the ground on his head and it was broken; also his ribs."
Yaksahn bent his head.
"It was determined," he said with satisfaction, "by wise men of authority who rule such matters at the trap-stockades, that this elephant had done just judgment54; because the man had done murder.
"But we could not come close to this elephant—to link with his leg-chains—for his threatening eye. That night and the next day, he kept the body between his feet—the body of the little child he kept—save when he swung it. No man could prevent.
"Then he left it" (Ram Yaksahn's voice suddenly went husky), "and came to me—and put me on his neck. For this reason I am his to him; and he is mine to me!"
"Well done, well done!" the mellow55 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 my face to tell it. But if you learn that I am a fool of fools, consider my foolishness. His blackness is strange; his strength is mighty—it took four to handle him, not two, in the beginning—and his quickness is more quick than a man can think. Also, he has a red devil in his eye.
"When my name was spoken after his name and my duty rendered me to serve him, I found he was indeed my master. We consider the creatures of 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 fair woman of lineage as good as my own—as my fathers have done. So when this last thing happened, not many weeks ago, a son of mine lay on his mother's breast. She came out with the child and sat near me. She was teaching me that my son laughed. I saw only her; and knew only that her babe was strong.
"I forgot that this elephant browsed56 close by, having long picket chains to reach the tender branches. He came toward where we sat and stood looking at us; and I called on her to behold57 the red devil in his eye. But I looked—not into his eye; and I did not see him upon us—till he lifted my son from her breast. I saw the little body swing up, far above my head—the so very little body—and I heard her cry in the same breath."
Ram Yaksahn laid his forehead against his fists and softly beat his head. Looking up with drawn58 features, he went on:
"My face was in the grasses when I heard her laugh. Then I saw the babe—not longer than a man's arm—slowly swinging in my master's trunk, back and forth—back and forth. The little one was making noises of content—such as babes use—when my master laid him very gently 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 that hour I was without sense to know courage or fear. The fingers of cold death felt along my veins59 and searched out the marrow60 of my bones; for when I leaped to take the babe—I met the red threat in my master's eye. But the mother of my son went like a blown leaf and stooped between this elephant's feet, to lift up her first man-child.
"She came away with him safe; and this elephant swayed before us, at the end of his picket chains, stretching his quivering trumpet-tip toward the babe—with flaming fires in his eyes.
"The daughter of High Himalayan mahouts called this black majesty 'Nut Kut'; and they have added that name on the Government books. But they will not take his first name away. I have finished."
And Ram Yaksahn gave himself to his hookah—still keeping his eye on
Nut 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 his last name is Pyar-awaz."
All the mahouts laughed; translating the double name in their own minds—-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 lacking in courage. We will prove the nature of Nut Kut with kindness."
His decision was conclusive61; and they proceeded to encourage the mighty black into his own enclosure.
This was the coming of Nut Kut to the Chief Commissioner's elephant stockades at Hurda. As time went by, the attraction of his mysterious nature inflamed62 the mahouts with interest; and also with concern—for he was a fearsome fighter.
Carlin had gone to a sick sister-in-law for a few days; and as soon as he heard of it, Dickson Sahib had driven to the M'Cord bungalow63—realising that without her it would be desolate64 to his young American friend. Protesting that he needed someone to come and break his own loneliness, he carried Skag home.
So just now Skag was smoking his after-tiffin cigarette in the verandah of Dickson Sahib's big bungalow. The great Highway-of-all-India, with its triple avenue, its monarch65 trees, swept past the front of the grounds. Several times from here, he had seen a big elephant go joyously67 rolling by. He could tell it was joyous66; and the man on its neck was usually singing.
The very smell of elephants had always stirred Skag—like all clean good 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 good deal of them. They looked to him like convicts; or manikins—moving to the pull of the hour-string. They were incessantly68 being loaded, unloaded, made to march; cooped in small, stuffy69 places—chained.
He wanted to see elephants—herds of them! He wanted to see them in multitudes, working for men in their own way; using their own intelligence. He wanted to see them in their own jungles—living their own 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 Mahadeo mountains he had found none—nor in the great Grass Jungle. Yet he had learned that when he wanted anything—way back in the inside of himself—he was due to get it. To-day this thing was gnawing70 more than ever before; he wanted elephants—hard.
Dickson Sahib came out on his way back to the offices and stopped to finish their tiffin conversation:
"I'm glad you're interested in young Horace; you're going to be no end good for him, I can see that. You'll find him far too mature for his years. His brain's too active; but he's not abnormal. His tutors call him insatiable; but from his babyhood the breath of his life has been elephants. He's taken a lot from the learned natives; they talk with him 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 days are quite tied up, and his mother—the climate, you know. So you see what I mean, he's really needing—just you."
Dickson's eyes turned on a little fellow who stood alone, further down the verandah. Then his face shadowed, as he spoke in a lower tone:
"I said he's not abnormal—that should be qualified. Several years ago he was carried home from the Chief Commissioner's elephant stockades by their governing mahout, Kudrat Sharif. The servants said he was crying and fighting to go back; but otherwise seemed quite himself. When I came from the offices in the evening, however, he was in a fever; raving71 about Nut Kut—raving about Nut Kut for days—always wanting to go back to Nut Kut.
"I went after the governing mahout and he said the child had played too hard; and that was why they brought him home. Kudrat Sharif is a graceful72 man, with much dignity; but I always felt he held something in reservation."
"What about Nut Kut?" Skag asked.
"Nut Kut is a great black elephant, trapped in the Vindha Hills only a few years ago. He's young and I've heard he's a dangerous fighter. My son likes him; but I can't get over believing he's responsible for the high nerve tension the boy always carries. But don't let Horace annoy you." Dickson Sahib finished hurriedly. "You're his first love, you know!"
Any man knows the kind of thrill when he's told that a boy has fallen in love with him; but the lad's interest in elephants—reminding Skag of his own—made him specially worth considering. The little figure suggested dynamic power rather than physical strength. The hair was dull brown, with an overcast73 of pale flame on it; the skin too white. But the eyes held Skag. They were pure grey, full of smouldering shadows and high lights—forever contending with each other. At this moment the boy was leaning his head toward the road, listening.
Mitha 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 was trumpeting76 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 her whenever she passed Miss Annesley's bungalow; and now—she's not there to do it."
Horace waved his hand to Mitha Baba's mahout; and the mahout shouted something in a dialect Skag did not know.
"He's awfully77 proud of Mitha Baba; and it's true, Skag Sahib, there isn't anything in grey beyond her; but—" Horace stopped, suddenly gone wistful.
"What's the trouble?" Skag asked, startled.
"They won't let me near him—they won't let me! I want him more than anything I know—"
"Then you'll get him!" interrupted Skag.
It must have been the sureness in Skag's voice, that made some choking tightness way back in the boy's soul let go; whole vistas78 of possibilities opened up.
"We're going to get on, you know—I'm sure of it!" he said breathlessly. "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 there are 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, he took 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 back from the bazaar79 soon, to let me know whether the time will be to-day or to-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 forty Government elephants in his stockades—the finest ever. Neela Deo, the Blue God—who is the leader of the caravan—the mahouts say there isn't an elephant in the world to touch him; and Mitha Baba and Gunpat Rao—they're famous in all India. And Nut Kut; indeed, Skag Sahib, you should see Nut Kut. They don't allow strangers about where he is; he's the 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 was little—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 than anything I know. The mahouts have tried every way to discourage me—yes, they have!"
"What does he do?" Skag questioned.
"You know Government does not permit elephant fighting," the boy began solemnly, "but—Nut Kut doesn't know it! His pet scheme is to break away out of his own stockades, if there are any elephants across the river—that's where the regiments81 camp—and get in among the military elephants. He's a frightful82 fighter."
"How do they handle him?" Skag asked.
"It takes more than two of their best males to do it—big trained fellows, you understand. Even then, usually, one of the great females comes with her chain—the kind they call 'mother-things'—she handles it with her trunk. Just one little flick40 across his ears and any fighter will be willing to stop—even Nut Kut. But it's to see, Skag Sahib; never twice the same—it can't be told."
A servant came in from the highway, salaaming84 before Horace and reporting that the tamasha would occur at the usual time this afternoon—afternoon; not evening.
"Then we'll have tea, at once!" Horace interrupted him. "Quick! tell the butler."
After tea they walked along the great Highway-of-all-India, by the edge of the native town and over the low stone bridge. Beyond the river, they passed acres of tenting. A glamour85 of dust lay in the slanting86 sun-rays. An intense earth-smell penetrated87 Skag's senses. A feel of excitement 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 their big works in the Indian elephant-military department."
This announcement of the programme instantly made Skag forget that he had come out with a lad in need of healthy comradeship.
"What work?" he asked.
"This is elephant concerns, Skag Sahib," the boy replied; "they work with men and they work for men, but no one knows what they think about the man-end of it; because they are always and always doing things men never expect. They do funny things and strange things and wonderful things. It's the inside working of an elephant regiment80, that makes it so different from anything else.
"It's all tied up with men on the outside; but you mustn't notice the outside. Inside is what I mean—the elephant concerns. No one knows what it will be to-day."
"Have you forgotten Nut Kut?" smiled Skag.
"Not ever!" the boy answered quickly, "but even if he doesn't come—they almost always do something interesting. That's why we never call them animals or beasts, but sometimes creatures—because they have a kind of intelligence we have not. And that's why we always speak of them as persons."
"I like that," Skag put in.
"From end to end of India," the boy went on, "down Bombay side and up Calcutta side, regiments of elephants go with regiments of men—in the never-ending fatigue88 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 with it, or lose it, or go aside into the jungle to eat. You're going to see one regiment start out to-day.
"The man-regiment will go another road—a little longer, but not so rough. The elephant regiment will go by themselves, just one mahout on each neck—like you would carry a mouse. Really, they go on their own honour; because men have no power to control them—only with their voices. You know Government doesn't permit elephants to be shot, for anything—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't punish elephants any other way—they're not big enough."
Then a voice rolled out of the dust-glamour before them. In quality and reach and power, it reminded Skag of a marvel89 voice that used to call 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's the only kind of mahout who ever gets pay for himself."
"How's that?"
"It's what makes the elephant-military a proper department. Only elephant names on the books; the pay goes to them. The mahout is always an elephant's servant; he eats from his master, of course. From the outside it saves a lot of trouble, to be sure."
Skag laughed. From the elephant standpoint, a small Englishman was conceding a certain amount of convenience to men.
"You see," the boy went on, "an elephant lives anyway more than a hundred years; and his name stays just like that and draws pay without changing. Always a mahout's son takes his place, when he gets too old or dies. I can recall when Mitha Baba's mahout was one of the most wonderful of them all. Now he has gone old, as they say; and his son is on her neck."
There was a moment when Skag would have given his soul—almost—if he might have grown up in India, as this child was growing up; in the heart 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 the right, and nothing but elephant ranks toward the left; but in the centre, a large area was covered with separate piles of dunnage, evenly distributed.
From where he stood toward where the sun would set—a broad division stretched; and in the middle of this division, a single line of loaded elephants filed away and away to the horizon.
. . . Skag became oblivious90. He was so thralled with the sight that he did not notice what was nearer. The whole panorama91 held his breath till right before him a great creature rose from sitting—without a sound. There was a dignity about its movement not less than majestic92. It was a mighty load; but the huge shape slid away as smooth as flowing water—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 the mahout. This mahout must be one of the great ones, else the master-mahout would not have spoken to him. But he will always speak to the elephants—something."
A strange name filled the air, rolling up and away. It was followed by a courteous93 request, in softer tones; and Skag watched another big elephant approach from the unpicketed lines. It came to where the master-mahout stood, close to a pile of tenting, wheeled to face the way it should go presently, and sank down to be loaded.
Men did the lifting into place and the lashing94 on. There was detail in the process, to which the elephant adjusted his body as intelligently as they adjusted theirs. When they required to reach under with the broad canvas bands, he rose a little without being told. Indeed they seldom spoke even to each other; and then in undertones. The elephant's mahout sat in his place on the neck, as if he were a part of the neck itself.
The smoothness, the ease of it all, amazed Skag. That every good night, spoken to every separate elephant, was different—peculiar to itself—was no less astounding95. It was never as if addressed to an animal, or even to a child; but always as if to a mature and understanding intelligence. As when the master-mahout said to one female:
"Fortune to thee, great Lady. May the gods guard that foot. And have a 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. It is not yet in thy head—to determine when shall be tamasha. Fifty years hence, and when wisdom shall be come to thee, thou heir of ancient learning, then we shall have tamasha at thy bidding."
. . . A monster female came at the call of her name, with a long heavy chain—one end securely attached to her. The other end she handled with 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 Nut Kut 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, she breaks it up with her chain; better than any two or three fighting males. Two tuskers just wake Nut Kut up!"
Then he stood staring at the female with her chain—getting red in the face as he spoke:
"Oh, I say! She doesn't want to be loaded; and she knows! Why, they know she knows! . . . Master-mahout!" he called in brave tones that trembled, "I am Dickson Sahib's son—of the grain-foods department—"
"Is it not the unwritten-law that the great 'mother-thing' shall be obeyed?" the boy quavered.
"It is the unwritten-law, Sahib; and we will not impose our will on her. It is this, there is no sign of what she means; the masters are all quiet to-day—there is no warning of tamasha."
The master-mahout spoke with grave consideration; but just as he finished, the "mother-thing" wheeled into place and went down to take her 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?" queried97 Skag, remembering the tamer 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 places and went to one spot; and Skag saw the one who had been called. He was sitting low against the ground, slowly rocking his head from side to side. A mahout was examining his ears—folding them back and feeling of 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, where the loaded elephants went marching away. Then he burst out, in choking excitement:
"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 ever happened. They say it has been done; but I've never seen it—I've never seen it myself."
Skag saw a powerful elephant coming back alongside the loaded line. He did not move with the same smooth flowing motion as the others. He walked as if he were coming on important business. With a load on his back, he returned and sank down beside the pile of tenting intended for another elephant.
"What's the meaning of it?" Skag asked.
Little Horace Dickson answered in a hushed way—as one in the presence of a miracle:
"It is one of the regulars, come back to take a part of what belongs to the sick elephant."
Skag looked at the boy's face, in incredulous amazement98. It was lit—awe and exaltation were both there. Then he noticed the look of the master-mahout—that was a revelation.
. . . They were putting half as much again on top of the already loaded elephant.
. . . Certain phrases went through Skag's brain, as he watched the thing done—over and over. No one had called this elephant back. He came before they knew themselves that an elephant was sick. When the mahouts first went to examine the sick one—this one was already on the way. How did he know?
The extra loaded elephant rose and started again. Then a great shout went up. Tones of many voices filled the slanting sun-rays in all the glamour of dust. The wonderful voice of the master-mahout loomed99 above all:
"Wisdom and excellence100 are thy parts, oh Thou! Justice and kindness—we who are poor in them—will learn of thee! Thou son of strength, 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 he stood somewhere in the outer courts of a great animal-cult; and he was convinced that it was of a mystic nature—however that could be. He swore in his heart that he would never give up, till he got further in.
"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 the regiment—they always call for two to volunteer; and they divide the load of the sick elephant between them. They use these tones instead of a name—just for that. There comes a male now, to take the rest of this load."
Skag watched the added load going into place on the volunteer. It was almost finished, when a trumpet blast sounded directly behind him—toward Hurda. Several elephants answered from the regiment; and many 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're going to see—the ones who ought to handle him are all gone."
The master-mahout's voice was rising up into the vault102 of heaven and falling over upon the horizon. It seemed to Skag the like was never heard before.
"He's calling the two big tuskers back," Horace chuckled, "but there'll be doings on before they get here! Will you listen to Nut Kut's challenge?"
Skag turned to face the looming103 trumpet tones. There were no tones behind him like them. Smooth and mellow, they were yet so full of power as to make all the others sound insignificant104. They were like love-tones translated into thunder.
But when Nut Kut came in sight, Skag caught his breath. The shape was made of gleaming bronze. No detail showed; it was a thing that took the eye and the breath and the blood. There was no look of effort in its inscrutable motion.
They stood in the open, between this thing and the regiment behind. There was no obstruction105. And Skag moved to be between it and Horace—when it should pass them on its way. The regiment of thoroughly106 trained elephants were standing96 firmly in their places; but they were making the welkin ring with a thousand trumpets107 in the air.
Certainly Skag knew that this incredible thing before him—bigger every second—was Nut Kut. He looked to see why the great challenge-tones had stopped, and revelation went through him—like an explosion. Nut Kut had seen Horace and was coming straight for him.
Skag leaped to meet Nut Kut first, but he couldn't catch the elephant's eye. The huge shape was upon him and he was flung aside. Recovering himself almost instantly, he got around in time to see—but not in time to prevent.
Horace lifted both arms and leaned forward—his grey eyes gone black—as Nut Kut's trunk caught him. A little broken cry came from him 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 on the man who followed—his red eyes, blazing with red warning. The American animal trainer did not fail to understand; he paused.
Slowly the great bronze trunk curled and cuddled about Horace Dickson's body and began to swing him. Skag knew that elephants swing men when they intend to kill them; and he heard a low moaning—like wind—rise up from the multitude of mahouts behind.
. . . Further and further the boy swung in the elephant's trunk, back and forth—back and forth. Unnatural108 tones startled Skag—sounding like delirium109. Nut Kut put little Horace Dickson down, close under his own throat, his long trunk curling outside—always curling about—feeling up and down the boy's limbs, his frame, his face. The small mouth was open; the little red tongue—flickering.
Horace seemed oblivious; but when he laughed aloud. Nut Kut caught him up again—lightning quick. This time he swung the boy higher, till he rounded a perfect circle in the air; backing still further away and lifting his head. Nut Kut flung him round and round and yet around—faster and yet faster.
The moaning—like wind—still came from behind.
After endless time—like perdition—Skag heard Horace gasping110, choking. He thought there were words; but couldn't be sure. And while this was going on. Nut Kut brought the boy down—flat on the ground. The impact must have broken a man. But Horace got to his feet—staggering in the circle of the trunk—looking dazed.
Now Skag moved forward, holding his hands out—as he came nearer to the big black head.
"I know you now, Nut Kut," he said quietly, "you're white inside all right. 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 into the American's eyes—the red danger signals flaring111 up in his own again.
"Nut Kut, old man," Skag reasoned in perfectly112 natural tones, "you can't bluff113 me. I tell you, I know you. I know you as well as if we came 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, Skag laid his fingers on the great bronze trunk, gently but firmly stroking—the red eyes focused in his own. For seconds the man and the elephant looked into each other. Suddenly Nut Kut loosed Horace and laid 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 courage would be dashed to death before their eyes.
Skag squirmed in the grip about his body as Nut Kut held him high. It looked as if he were being crushed. But when he got his hands on the trunk again, he laughed. Now Nut Kut lowered him quickly—holding him before his own red eyes. The touch of the elephant was the touch of a master. But the eyes of the man were mastership itself.
. . . They were just so, when Ram Yaksahn—with a ghastly haggard face—lurched from behind Nut Kut, fairly sobbing114. Nut Kut jerked Skag tight (it was like a hug), released him deliberately115 and turning, put his own sick mahout up on his own neck, with a movement that looked like a flick of his trunk.
"Now easy, Majesty, go easy with me—indeed I am very ill!" Ram Yaksahn protested in plaintive116 tones, as Nut Kut wheeled away with him.
Seeing Horace in the hands of a strange native—and certainly recovering—Skag looked away toward Hurda and wonder aloud if Nut Kut would be punished. It was the master-mahout who answered him:
"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 intently into 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 too late, not too soon. We have seen you work this day; and the fame of it will go before and after you, the length and breadth of India—among the mahouts."
He turned, pointing toward the elephant regiment. Many mahouts were shouting something together; their right hands flung high.
"It is right for you to know," the master-mahout went on, "that mahouts are a kind of men by themselves apart. Their knowledges are of elephants—sealed—not open to those from without. Yet I speak as one of my kind, being qualified, if in the future you have need of anything from us—it is yours."
And without giving Skag a chance to answer him, but with a stately gesture of salaam, the master-mahout had returned to his place and was calling another elephant.
Skag turned toward Horace, who was drawing a fine looking native forward by the hand. The boy spoke with repressed excitement—otherwise showing no sign of Nut Kut's strenuous118 handling:
"Skag Sahib, I want you to know Kudrat Sharif, the malik of the Chief Commissioner's elephant stockades. It is not known, you understand—meaning my father—but the malik has always been very wonderful to me."
Kudrat Sharif smiled with frank affection on the boy, as he drew his right hand away, to touch his forehead in the Indian salaam. The gesture showed both grace and dignity—as Dickson Sahib had said.
"I am exalted to carry back to my stockades the story of the manner of your 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 have established it before many."
Just then a great elephant came near, playfully reaching for Kudrat
Sharif with his trunk.
"And this is Neela Deo, the leader of the caravan!" laughed Horace.
"It is my shame that there is no howdah on him to carry you; we came like flight, when Nut Kut's escape was known," Kudrat Sharif apologised. "But after some days, when Nut Kut's excitement sleeps, we shall be distinguished if Son-of-Power chooses to come to the stockades and consider him.
"I heard your judgment of his nature, Sahib; and I say with humility that I shall remember it, in what I have to do with the most strange elephant I have ever met. Truly we are not sure of Nut Kut, whether he is a mighty being of extreme exaltation, above others of his kind in the world, or—a prince from the pit!"
Walking home, Horace expressed himself to his friend—as the heart of a boy may be expressed; and Skag dropped his arm about the slender shoulders, speaking softly:
"Remember, son, a little more—would have been too much."
"All right, Skag Sahib, because now you understand; but—isn't he interesting?"
Knowing well what the boy meant about the great strange creature—more than his fighting propensities120, deeper than his physical might—Skag assented thoughtfully:
"Yes; I would like to know him better."
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收听单词发音
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1
chaste
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| adj.贞洁的；有道德的；善良的；简朴的 | |
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commissioner
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| n.（政府厅、局、处等部门）专员，长官，委员 | |
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stockades
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| n.（防御用的）栅栏，围桩( stockade的名词复数 ) | |
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stockade
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| n.栅栏，围栏；v.用栅栏防护 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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homage
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| n.尊敬，敬意，崇敬 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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humility
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| n.谦逊，谦恭 | |
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reverence
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| n.敬畏，尊敬，尊严；Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称；v.尊敬，敬畏，崇敬 | |
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12
luminous
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| adj.发光的，发亮的；光明的；明白易懂的；有启发的 | |
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13
exalted
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| adj.(地位等)高的，崇高的；尊贵的，高尚的 | |
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14
rebuked
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| 责难或指责( rebuke的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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15
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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caravan
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| n.大蓬车；活动房屋 | |
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qualified
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| adj.合格的，有资格的，胜任的，有限制的 | |
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18
toiled
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| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的过去式和过去分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
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wary
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| adj.谨慎的，机警的，小心的 | |
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snared
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| v.用罗网捕捉，诱陷，陷害( snare的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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21
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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exclamations
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| n.呼喊( exclamation的名词复数 )；感叹；感叹语；感叹词 | |
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23
meditation
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| n.熟虑，（尤指宗教的）默想，沉思，（pl.）冥想录 | |
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24
trumpet
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| n.喇叭，喇叭声；v.吹喇叭，吹嘘 | |
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25
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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killer
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| n.杀人者，杀人犯，杀手，屠杀者 | |
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27
curds
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| n.凝乳( curd的名词复数 ) | |
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28
hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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29
tamping
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| n.填塞物，捣紧v.捣固( tamp的现在分词 )；填充；（用炮泥）封炮眼口；夯实 | |
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30
compassion
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| n.同情，怜悯 | |
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31
pacifying
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| 使（某人）安静( pacify的现在分词 )； 息怒； 抚慰； 在（有战争的地区、国家等）实现和平 | |
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32
refreshment
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| n.恢复，精神爽快，提神之事物；（复数）refreshments:点心，茶点 | |
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33
majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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34
assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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35
metallic
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| adj.金属的；金属制的；含金属的；产金属的；像金属的 | |
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36
copper
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| n.铜；铜币；铜器；adj.铜(制)的；(紫)铜色的 | |
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37
brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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38
ram
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| (random access memory)随机存取存储器 | |
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39
flicked
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| （尤指用手指或手快速地）轻击( flick的过去式和过去分词 )； （用…）轻挥； （快速地）按开关； 向…笑了一下（或瞥了一眼等） | |
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40
flick
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| n.快速的轻打，轻打声，弹开；v.轻弹，轻轻拂去，忽然摇动 | |
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41
precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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42
specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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43
monsoons
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| n.（南亚、尤指印度洋的）季风( monsoon的名词复数 )；（与季风相伴的）雨季；（南亚地区的）雨季 | |
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44
ribs
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| n.肋骨( rib的名词复数 )；（船或屋顶等的）肋拱；肋骨状的东西；（织物的）凸条花纹 | |
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45
uprooted
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| v.把（某物）连根拔起( uproot的过去式和过去分词 )；根除；赶走；把…赶出家园 | |
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46
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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47
reassured
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| adj.使消除疑虑的；使放心的v.再保证，恢复信心( reassure的过去式和过去分词) | |
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48
picket
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| n.纠察队；警戒哨；v.设置纠察线；布置警卫 | |
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49
picketed
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| 用尖桩围住（picket的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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50
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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51
murmurs
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| n.低沉、连续而不清的声音( murmur的名词复数 )；低语声；怨言；嘀咕 | |
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52
appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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53
swelled
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| 增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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54
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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55
mellow
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| adj.柔和的；熟透的；v.变柔和；(使)成熟 | |
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56
browsed
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| v.吃草( browse的过去式和过去分词 )；随意翻阅；（在商店里）随便看看；（在计算机上）浏览信息 | |
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57
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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58
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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59
veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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60
marrow
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| n.骨髓；精华；活力 | |
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61
conclusive
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| adj.最后的，结论的；确凿的，消除怀疑的 | |
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62
inflamed
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| adj.发炎的，红肿的v.（使）变红，发怒，过热( inflame的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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63
bungalow
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| n.平房，周围有阳台的木造小平房 | |
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64
desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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65
monarch
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| n.帝王，君主，最高统治者 | |
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66
joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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67
joyously
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| ad.快乐地, 高兴地 | |
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68
incessantly
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| ad.不停地 | |
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69
stuffy
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| adj.不透气的，闷热的 | |
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70
gnawing
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| a.痛苦的，折磨人的 | |
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71
raving
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| adj.说胡话的；疯狂的，怒吼的；非常漂亮的；令人醉心[痴心]的v.胡言乱语(rave的现在分词)n.胡话；疯话adv.胡言乱语地；疯狂地 | |
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72
graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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73
overcast
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| adj.阴天的，阴暗的，愁闷的；v.遮盖，（使）变暗，包边缝；n.覆盖，阴天 | |
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74
petulant
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| adj.性急的，暴躁的 | |
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75
chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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76
trumpeting
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| 大声说出或宣告（trumpet的现在分词形式） | |
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77
awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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78
vistas
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| 长条形景色( vista的名词复数 )； 回顾； 展望； （未来可能发生的）一系列情景 | |
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79
bazaar
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| n.集市，商店集中区 | |
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80
regiment
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| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
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81
regiments
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| （军队的）团( regiment的名词复数 )； 大量的人或物 | |
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82
frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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83
salaam
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| n.额手之礼，问安，敬礼；v.行额手礼 | |
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84
salaaming
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| 行额手礼( salaam的现在分词 ) | |
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85
glamour
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| n.魔力，魅力；vt.迷住 | |
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86
slanting
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| 倾斜的，歪斜的 | |
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87
penetrated
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| adj. 击穿的，鞭辟入里的 动词penetrate的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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88
fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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89
marvel
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| vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异；n.令人惊异的事 | |
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90
oblivious
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| adj.易忘的，遗忘的，忘却的，健忘的 | |
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91
panorama
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| n.全景，全景画，全景摄影，全景照片[装置] | |
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92
majestic
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| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
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93
courteous
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| adj.彬彬有礼的，客气的 | |
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94
lashing
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| n.鞭打；痛斥；大量；许多v.鞭打( lash的现在分词 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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95
astounding
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| adj.使人震惊的vt.使震惊，使大吃一惊astound的现在分词) | |
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96
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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97
queried
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| v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的过去式和过去分词 )；询问 | |
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98
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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99
loomed
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| v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的过去式和过去分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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100
excellence
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| n.优秀，杰出，(pl.)优点，美德 | |
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101
ascended
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| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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102
vault
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| n.拱形圆顶，地窖，地下室 | |
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103
looming
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| n.上现蜃景（光通过低层大气发生异常折射形成的一种海市蜃楼）v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的现在分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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104
insignificant
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| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
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105
obstruction
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| n.阻塞，堵塞；障碍物 | |
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106
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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107
trumpets
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| 喇叭( trumpet的名词复数 )； 小号； 喇叭形物； （尤指）绽开的水仙花 | |
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108
unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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109
delirium
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| n. 神智昏迷,说胡话;极度兴奋 | |
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110
gasping
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| adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
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111
flaring
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| a.火焰摇曳的，过份艳丽的 | |
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112
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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113
bluff
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| v.虚张声势，用假象骗人；n.虚张声势，欺骗 | |
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114
sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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115
deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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116
plaintive
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| adj.可怜的，伤心的 | |
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117
nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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118
strenuous
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| adj.奋发的，使劲的；紧张的；热烈的，狂热的 | |
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119
salaamed
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| 行额手礼( salaam的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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120
propensities
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| n.倾向，习性( propensity的名词复数 ) | |
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