CHAPTER XII
SUL THE ELEPHANT
"Bother the old cobra! Don't say any more about it; I hate to hear the thing mentioned. Well, there, quite well, thank you; how do you do?"
"But you might tell me, Hal."
"Why, I am telling you. I'm quite well again."
"Don't you feel anything?"
"Oh yes, just a little; my arm feels pins-and-needlesy, just as if I had been to sleep on it in an awkward position; and it looks as if it was turning into a snake."
"What, twists and twines about?"
"No—o—o—o! What nonsense! How can a thing with stiff bones in it twist and twine about? I mean, the skin's all marked something like a snake's; but Dr. Cameron says I need not mind, for it will all go off in time. Oh, I am so sick of it all! I wish I hadn't killed the snake."
"What!" cried Phra.
"No, I don't quite mean that, because of course I'm glad to have killed the horrible, poisonous thing; only it's so tiresome. That's nearly a month ago, and everybody's watching me to see how I look, and asking me how I am, and you're about the worst of the lot."
"It's quite natural, Hal."
"Is it? Then I wish it wasn't. I suppose it's quite natural for Mrs.
Cameron to begin to cry as soon as she sees me."
"It's because she feels grateful to you for saving her life."
"There you go again," cried Harry peevishly. "Saving her life! Oh, how I wish I hadn't! Everybody will keep telling me of it, and one says it was so good of me, and another calls me a brave young hero; and just because I hit a snake a whack with an old bamboo stool. It's sickening."
Phra laughed heartily.
"You're not sorry you saved her life."
"Will you be quiet?" cried Harry angrily. "Saved her life again. Everybody's telling me of it. Of course I don't mean I'm sorry, but I wish somebody else had done it. Ah! you, for instance," cried the boy, with one of his old mirthful looks. "Ha, ha, ha! Poor old Phra! How would he like it? every one calling him a brave young hero!"
"I shouldn't mind it once or twice," said Phra thoughtfully. "But after that I suppose it would be rather tiresome."
"Tiresome!" cried Harry. "It sets your teeth on edge—it makes you squirm—it makes you want to throw things that will break—it makes you want to call names, and kick."
Phra roared.
"Ah, you may grin, my lad, but it does."
"It would make me feel proud," said Phra.
"That it wouldn't. You're not such a silly, weak noodle. It would make you feel ashamed of yourself, for it's sickly and stupid to make such a fuss about nothing. No, don't say any more about it, or there'll be a fight."
"I say, Hal," cried Phra. "I shall be glad when you are quite well again."
"I am quite well again. Look here, I'll race you along the terrace and back."
"No, it makes one too hot. But you're not quite well yet."
"I am, I tell you. Do you want to quarrel?"
"No, but that proves you are not."
"How? What do you mean?"
"You get cross so soon. It's just as if that snakebite—"
"Don't!" roared Harry.
"Turned you sour and acid."
Harry did not resent this, but remained silent for a few moments.
"I say," he said at last, "is that true?"
"What?"
"About me turning sour and acid?"
"Oh yes; you get out of temper about such little things. I'm almost afraid to speak to you sometimes."
"Hi! Look at him! There he goes. One of those little monkeys. He heard me shout. How he can jump from tree to tree! I wish we were as active. There! He can't jump to that next tree. He'd fall down. Well! Look at that. Why, it was a tremendous jump."
"We were here just right," said Phra; "he was coming after the fruit, and we scared him."
Harry was silent, and walked on by his companion's side in the beautiful gardens of the palace. Then he began to whistle softly, as if he were thinking. At last he broke out with—
"Oh, what a lovely garden this is! I wish my father was a king, and I was a prince, and all this was ours."
Phra threw himself down on the grass beneath a clump of shrubs and began to laugh heartily.
"What are you laughing at?" said Harry angrily.
"You. Why, you wouldn't like it half so well as what you have now."
"Oh, shouldn't I! I know better than that."
"No, you don't, Hal. That is all my father's, and it will be all mine some day; but I like being at your place ever so much better than being here."
"You don't. Nonsense!"
"I do, I tell you. Your little garden's lovely, and the dear old landing-place is ten times nicer than our marble steps."
"You've been out in the sun too much, Phra, and it has turned your head."
"That it hasn't. And as to your father being king, he'd soon be very tired of it, as my father is; for it's all worry and care."
Harry had thrown himself sprawling on the grass beside his companion, and the boys were both silent for a while, as if listening to the soft cooing of one of the beautiful little rose and green doves which frequented the garden.
"It's very curious," said Harry at last.
"What is?" said Phra wonderingly.
"That the poison of that snake—such a wee, tiny drop as got into me—should have such a droll effect."
"I don't see anything droll in it," replied Phra.
"I do," cried Harry. "Here, only a little time ago I was the jolliest, best-tempered fellow that ever lived."
"Ho, ho, ho!" laughed Phra.
"Well, so I was," cried Harry indignantly.
"When you weren't cross."
"Oh, I say, I never was cross; but I'll own to it now. I've often thought about it lately. You're quite right, Phra; the least thing does put me out now, and I feel as if I must grind my teeth together. Think it is because of the poison?"
"Of course it is. But never mind. I don't, because I know why it is."
"I have been very cross, then, sometimes, have I?"
"Horrid!" cried Phra, laughing. "You've been ready to call the sun names for shining, and the wind for blowing. You can't think how cross you've been."
"I can guess. It's what Dr. Cameron calls being a trifle irritable. Hullo! here's one of your fellows coming. Looks just as if he were going to spear us both for being in the King's garden."
A handsome, bronze-skinned guard stalked up and bowed to Phra.
"What do you want?" asked Phra.
"The hunter, Sree, asks to see the Prince," replied the man.
That was enough. There was neither irritability in Harry, nor thought of the heat in Phra, as they sprang up and made for the outer court, where they found Sree sitting upon his heels, calmly meditative over his thoughts, but ready to spring up on seeing the two lads approach.
He saluted them after the country fashion, and in reply to the question asked by both together,—
"I came to see if the young Sahib Harry was well enough to go out, and the Prince would go with him."
"Of course I'm well enough," cried Harry. "I say, Sree, have you seen any cobras since that one bit me?"
Phra turned sharply round, with his face full of the mirth he tried to hide.
"Yes, I know what you mean," cried Harry sharply. "I shall talk about it myself, though, if I like. Have you seen any, Sree?"
"Just one hundred and seven, Sahib," said the man.
"A hundred and seven!" cried Harry. "What, about here?"
"About the different houses and landings, Sahib," replied the old hunter. "They like to get near to where people live, because of the little animals that come too."
"I shouldn't have thought that there were so many for miles and miles."
"Oh yes, Sahib; there are many nagas about."
"You must have seen the same ones over again," said Harry.
"No, Sahib; it was not so, because I killed as many as I said."
"Killed them!"
"Yes, Sahib; when I knew that you had been bitten, I felt that I must have been neglectful, and I set to work seeking for nagas with my two men, and we killed all those. You see, it is easy. When you find one, there is sure to be its husband or its wife somewhere near."
"Then you killed all those because I was bitten?" said Harry.
"Yes, Sahib, and we are going to kill more. They are dangerous things.
Would the Sahib like to go out to-day?"
"Yes, we should; shouldn't we, Phra?"
"Yes, if you—"
Phra got no farther, on account of the sharp look Harry darted at him.
"Have you anything particular you have tracked down?"
"I have done nothing but hunt nagas lately, Sahib, because I did not know when the Sahib would come again; but the jungle is full of wild creatures, and the river the same. Would Sahib Harry like to go right up the river in a boat, or would he like a ride through the jungle with an elephant?"
"What do you say, Phra?" asked Harry.
"We had a boat out last time," said Phra. "Which you like, though."
"But could you get an elephant? Would your father—"
"Of course," said Phra eagerly. "How soon shall we go?"
"I should like to go directly."
"Then we will go directly. I'll order an elephant to be brought round at once."
He went towards the palace, and Harry followed him with his eyes.
"It's nice," he thought, "to be able to order everything you want like that. To tell the people to bring round an elephant, just as I might give orders for a donkey. Well, it's just the same, only one's bigger than the other, and costs more to keep. It is nice, after all, to be a king or a prince. Phra says it isn't, though, and perhaps one might get as much fun out of a donkey, and if he kicked it wouldn't be so far to fall."
He turned suddenly, to find that the old hunter's eyes were fixed sharply upon him.
"Does the young Sahib feel any pain now from the snake-bite?"
Harry frowned at the allusion, but the question was so respectfully put that he replied quietly,—
"A good deal sometimes, Sree, but my arm is better."
"Be out in the sun all you can, Sahib, and let the hot light shine upon it to bring life and strength back to the blood."
Harry nodded.
"There is death in the serpent's poison, but life in the light of the sun, Sahib. Sree's heart was sore within him when he heard the bad tidings, for he feared it meant that the young Sahib's days were at an end."
"But you never came near me, Sree, while I was bad."
"But I knew, Sahib, and I was busy—oh, so busy! One hundred and seven of the little wretches."
"Oh yes," said Harry, "I had forgotten that. But come along; the
Prince is coming out again."
By the time they reached the court Phra was there, with men carrying out guns, belts, and flasks, with net-bags to hold anything they might shoot; and before this was quite done a peculiar scrunching sound was heard, and directly after the prominent fronted grey head of a huge elephant appeared, as the great quadruped came on, walking softly, and swaying its long trunk from side to side, while upon its neck sat a little ugly man not bigger than a boy, hook-speared goad in hand, and with his legs completely hidden by the creature's great, leathery, flap ears.
"You've got the biggest one, Phra," said Harry.
"Yes, he takes longer strides, and I like him; don't I, Sul?" said the lad, giving the u in the animal's name the long, soft sound of double o.
The elephant uttered a peculiar sound, and twining his truck round
Phra's waist, lifted him from the ground.
"No, no, I am going up by the ladder," said Phra, laughing, and at a word the huge beast set him down again, and raised his trunk to receive a petting from Harry, who was an old friend.
It seemed strange for the great beast with its gigantic power to be so obedient and docile to a couple of mere lads, and the insignificant mahout perched upon its neck. But so it was: at a word the elephant knelt, a short, bamboo ladder was placed against its side, and the boys climbed up; the guns and ammunition were handed in by Sree, who was particular to a degree in seeing that everything was placed in the howdah that was necessary; and then he took his own place behind the lads.
Without being told, a couple of the men drew the ladder away, and the mahout grasped his silver-mounted goad, all attention for the word.
Phra gave this, and then it was like a boat mounting a wave and plunging down the other side, as the elephant rose, and without seeming to exert itself in the least, began to shuffle over the ground.
"Just like two pairs of stuffed trousers under a feather bed," as
Harry termed it.
Sree gave the mahout his directions, and very soon the river was left far behind, and they were following one of the elephant tracks through the wooded district which lay between the river and the jungle proper—the primitive wild, much of which had never been trodden by the foot of man.
Here the trees had gone on growing to their full age, and fallen to make way for others to take their places, the roots of the young literally devouring the crumbled-up touchwood over which they had spread their boughs, while creepers and the ever-present climbing and running palm, the rotan, bound the grand, forest monarchs together, and turned the place into an impenetrable wild, save where the wild elephants had formed their roads and traversed them even to taking the same steps, each planting its huge feet in the impressions made by those which had gone before.
"Are we going to begin shooting at once, Sree?" asked Harry.
"No, Sahib; not here. Too many people have been about, and everything is shy and hides. Wait till we get into some of the open places in the wild jungle."
This was while they were in the more open woodland; but soon this was left behind, and they were in the twilight of the great forest, going through a tunnel arched over by big trees, and with very little more than room for their huge steed to pass without brushing the sides.
Every here and there the gloom was relieved by what looked like a golden shower of rain, where the sun managed to penetrate; but, as soon as this was passed, the darkness seemed deeper than before.
The first part of this savage wild lay low, and the huge footprints made by the wild elephants were full of mud and water; but Sul did not seem in the least troubled. According to the custom of his kind, he chose these holes in preference to the firm ground between, his feet sometimes descending with a loud splash a couple of feet or so, and being withdrawn with a peculiar suck, while the huge beast rolled and plunged like a boat in a rough sea.
"Do you mind this?" said Phra, turning to his companion, as they were shaken together.
"No; I like it," replied Harry. "I say, what a place this must be for the big snakes, and how easily one might dart down half its body and twist round one of us. Don't you feel a bit scared?"
"No; but I heard of a hungry one doing that once. I daresay we should know if one was near."
"How?"
"The elephant seems to see and know whenever he is near anything dangerous."
"Oh, only when there is a tiger or buffalo, Phra."
"This one notices everything, doesn't he, Sree?"
"Yes, Prince; he is a wonderful beast," replied the hunter, who, in spite of the rolling about, had carefully charged the four guns that had been brought, and replaced them lying upon the hooks within the howdah, ready to be seized at a moment's notice.
"We shan't see anything here," said Phra.
"Too thick," replied the hunter; "but there are plenty of beasts on either side now. In an hour though we shall reach a part where the sun can shine through."
"Hist! Something before us," whispered Phra stretching out his hand for a gun, an act imitated by Harry; for the elephant had suddenly stopped, thrown up its trunk, and as it gave vent to a rumbling sound which ended in the loud, highly-pitched cry which is called trumpeting, it shook its head from side to side, striking the branches with the ends of its long, sharp-pointed tusks, which were hooped in two places with bands of glistening silver.
"You had better take a gun too, Sree," said Harry, in a low voice, and the old hunter eagerly availed himself of the permission.
"Mind not to hit the mahout," whispered Phra, for the little turbanned man kept on anxiously looking back; "and you had better be looking out, Hal, for Sul may spin right round and run away."
They sat watching and listening for some minutes, expecting moment by moment to see the cause of their stoppage approaching along the dusk tunnel, and at last, as the elephant ceased to make uneasy signs, Sree handed the gun to Harry.
"What are you going to do?" asked the latter.
"Slip down, Sahib, and go forward to see what startled the elephant."
"Is it safe?"
"Oh yes, Sahib; I should run back if there was danger, and you would fire over my head."
"But you had better have a gun."
The old hunter smiled, and the next minute, he had lowered himself down by the ropes which held on the howdah, reached up for the gun, which was handed down to him, and they saw him go slowly forward, carefully examining the pathway, which fortunately was here fairly free from water, though the earth was soft enough to show the footprints of whatever had passed along.
As if fully comprehending what all this meant, the great elephant made a muttering noise, lowered its trunk, and of its own choice continued its march, following close behind Sree, till the latter began to move more cautiously; and now the elephant raised its head again, and curled its trunk up, throwing it back towards its forehead.
"Means a tiger," whispered Harry.
"Yes; look at Sree. Be ready to fire."
Harry's heart beat fast, and he sat there with his gun-barrels resting on the front of the howdah, ready to fire if the great cat came into view.
The elephant was shifting its weight from foot to foot, giving itself an awkward roll that would be rather bad for a marksman; but otherwise it made no further uneasy signs.
"Tiger," cried Phra, and Sree nodded sharply, before running some little distance on in a stooping position, displaying the activity of a boy, till he was nearly out of sight; but before he was quite so he turned sharply and ran back, stopping about a dozen yards in front of the elephant's head.
"Look, Sahibs," he said, pointing down, "tiger. He came out of the low bush just on your left, and trotted along to here, and then crossed to yonder, twenty paces farther, where he went in among the trees on your right."
"Come back, then, and mount," said Harry anxiously. "The brute may be crouching somewhere ready to spring on you."
"No, Sahib," said the man, smiling; "he has gone right away."
"How can you tell that?" asked Harry.
"Look at Sul, Sahib. He would not stand quietly like that if the tiger was near."
"Yes, that is right," said Phra quietly, and he bade the mahout tell the elephant to kneel.
"Couldn't we follow and get a shot at it?" said Harry excitedly. "No, no, of course not in a place like this," he hastened to add, for unless the path was followed it was next to impossible to move.
The next minute the elephant had knelt, and Sree had scrambled back to his place behind the howdah.
"As there was one here, there may be his mate, Sahib," he said; "so we will keep a good look-out."
"Yes, of course," said Harry, as the elephant strode along quietly enough; "but I say, Phra, we did not come out after tigers, did we?"
"No, but by accident we are where we may get one. Did you find the pugs as easily as this, when you were out with my father that day?"
"No, Sahib; it was all hard work, and very few footmarks to be found."
"Did you bring us this way hoping that we might shoot a tiger?"
"No, Sahib; I brought you along here so that you might shoot a deer for us to take back. I would not purposely take you where there are tigers; but if we have one tracking us, of course we must shoot, unless you would like to go back."
"Ask the Prince if he would," said Harry. "I mean to go on."
"Go on, of course," said Phra. "I don't think we shall see any more signs of tigers."
And, in fact, they went right on now along this winding tunnel through the jungle without seeing anything, and hearing nothing but the shrieking of parrots now and then, far above their heads, where the tops of the trees spread their flowers or fruit in the bright sunshine, but produced semi-darkness in the jungle beneath.
At last, though, the path grew drier and drier and it was evident that they were ascending a slope, which being pursued for another quarter of an hour, they had the satisfaction of noting that the trees were of less growth, and every now and then there were rays of light streaming down, till all at once there was a patch of bright sunshine right in front, showing that comparatively open ground lay before them; while directly after Harry had a glimpse of something dusky fifty yards away, there was the sound of a rush and the breaking of twigs, and then all was silent again.
"Buffalo, wasn't it?" said Phra.
"Yes, Sahib," replied the old hunter. "Scared away; but they may return. There were four of them. Be ready, for they might come back and charge at the elephant, big as he is."
But no more was seen of the game they had disturbed, and a few minutes later they were out in full sunshine, the track before them being a wide expanse of park-like ground extended on either slope of a valley, through which a stream ran, half hidden by overhanging bushes and reeds. Here and there the sun flashed from the running water, but for the most part the stream was invisible.
When they broke out of the jungle they entered a dense patch of grass, which immediately found favour with the elephant, and it began tearing it up in bundles as large as its trunk would embrace; but this enjoyment was stopped at once, for at a word or two from Sree, the mahout started the animal onward, uttering mild remonstrances the while.
"We will keep along here on the slope, Sahibs," said the hunter. "Be quite ready to fire."
It was an unnecessary order, for both boys were keenly on the look-out, while as soon as he had got over his disappointment at not being allowed to tuck small trusses of the succulent grass into his capacious maw, Sul showed how well trained a hunting elephant he was, taking up the beating in the most matter-of-fact way, and as if thoroughly entering into the spirit of the chase.
"What shall we get along here, Sree?" asked Harry, as they rode on, with the long grass and bushes rustling and snapping about the elephant's feet.
"Who knows, Sahib? Perhaps pig, which will make for the low ground yonder by the stream, or peacock, and they will rise and fly to our left for the shelter of the jungle. Maybe it will be a buffalo, who will charge us, and then it will be better that I should fire too, for the great obstinate brute ought to be stopped before it reaches Sul. He would take the buffalo on his tusks, but these beasts are so strong that he might be hurt, and that would be a pity; it makes an elephant unsteady."
"I thought you said we might get a deer," said Phra.
"It is very likely, Sahib," replied the man. "Who knows what we may find in such a beautiful hunting-country, where no one disturbs the beasts? Ah, look!"
For at that moment Sul uttered a warning sound which can best be represented by the word Phoomk, and stopped short, but without curling up his trunk out of the way of some charging enemy.
The boys raised their guns to their shoulders, and waited for a chance to fire, but there was nothing seen save the waving and undulating of the long grass to their left, as if something were making for the jungle—something long, like a gigantic serpent.
"Shall I fire?" said Phra.
"It is of no use, Sahib," replied Sree; "the cover is too deep."
"What is it?" said Harry hoarsely—"a boa?"
"No, Sahib; a little troop of small monkeys following an old one. They have been down to the water to drink, and they are running back to the jungle trees."
"Oh, we don't want to shoot them," said Harry; "go on."
The elephant obeyed a touch from the goad, and shambled along, making the long grass swish, while he muttered and grumbled as if dissatisfied at there being no firing. But before they had gone a hundred yards farther he gave warning again, and almost at the same moment there was a loud grunting, a rush to the right, and two reports rang out as both boys fired.
This was followed by a sharp squeal, but the undulation of the grass did not cease, and from their position high up the two lads caught sight from time to time of the blackish-brown backs of three or four good-sized pigs.
"We hit one," cried Harry excitedly. "Send Sul on. It must be lying dead."
"No, Sahib," said Sree. "You hit one, but they have all gone off."
"How do you know? Perhaps one is lying there in the long grass."
"No, Sahib," said the man; "you would have seen it struggling, and heard its shrieks. A pig makes much noise. But I saw the one hit, and it only gave a jump. You both fired the wrong barrels."
"What!" cried Phra, examining his gun, with Harry following suit.
"The right barrels are for shot, the left barrels for ball," said Sree quietly. "Those shot would kill a peacock, but only tickle the thick skin of a wild pig."
"How stupid!" said Harry. "I never thought of that. Here, load again."
He handed his gun to the hunter, and took up another from the hooks inside the howdah, while Sul went on, muttering to himself, but there appeared from the sound to be more satisfaction in his remarks at the efforts made, though there had been no result.
So comical was all this that the boys laughed heartily, and there was a grim smile on Sree's countenance.
"It seems so droll," said Phra merrily. "It is just as if he knew all about it."
"He does, Sahib," said the hunter.
"Nonsense!" said Harry.
"The Sahib has not seen so much of elephants as I have," said the man respectfully. "He believes that I have learned much about the wild creatures of the jungle?"
"Oh yes, you have, Sree; but I can't believe elephants understand what we are doing."
"The wild elephant is one of the wisest of beasts, Sahib, and he would never be caught, he is so cunning, if it was not that we cheat him by sending elephants that we have trained to the herd to lead others into traps. And when they have got them there, do they not beat them and hold them till they are noosed and their spirit is conquered?"
"Oh yes, they do all that."
"And many other things," said Sree, "that I have seen with the Sahibs in India, where they move and pile the trees that are cut down, and lift guns; and what beast will obey its master better than an elephant? Old Sul here is very wise, and knows a great deal."
"Yes," said Harry, "but not to understand what we say."
"But he knows what the order means, Sahib; and see how he enjoys the hunting."
"Yes, Sul really does like hunting, Hal," said Phra.
"And it is not only elephants that like hunting," continued Sree. "See how the horses and dogs love the hunting in India, and the horses the pig-sticking. I have seen them enjoy it as much as the Sahibs. They never want the spur, but go wonderfully fast, as soon as they see a fierce, wild boar. Ah, Sahib, animals are wiser than we think, and love us back again if we love them. Old Sul here loves me better than he does his driver; but I am afraid of him. He loves me too well."
"That sounds funny, Sree," said Harry. "What do you mean?"
"He likes to show me how much he loves me by rubbing up against me; and if he tries to do that when he has me by a tree or one of the palace walls, I am obliged to be quick and get under him; he is so big and heavy. But here is your gun."
Meanwhile the object of these remarks had been forcing his way through the grass and bushes, winking his little red eyes as if enjoying the conversation, and flapping his great ears, his absurdly small tail whisking about and making dashes at troublesome flies, while his great trunk seemed to possess an independent existence, twining and waving, swaying this way and that, and never for a moment still.
But all the while the great, sensible creature was intent upon the object in hand, pushing steadily forward through the dense growth, and starting numberless occupiers of the long grass—snakes, lizards, rats, and mice, scurrying away to avoid the pillar-like legs which invaded their home.
"Don't seem as if we are going to have much sport," said Harry at last, "and it's precious hot out here."
The words had hardly passed his lips when Sul uttered a deep grunt and stood fast, for he had startled a small deer from its lair, the graceful creature making a sudden bound into sight close to the elephant's feet, and then going right forward in a succession of leaps, so that its course hindered the boys from firing until it had gone forty yards, when both guns rang out sharply, Sul remaining firm as a rock.
"Hit!" cried Sree, for the deer fell heavily, struggled in the thick growth for a few moments, then gained its feet and made another bound into sight—a bound which paralysed the arms of the two lads and made them hold their breath, for as the deer made what was veritably its death leap, something of a tawny yellow and brown mingled made a tremendous bound on to it, bringing it down among the bushes with a dull, crashing sound, and then all was still.