The mahout stood up and salaamed, and forthwith he and I began to converse—that is to say, we made frantic endeavours to understand one another—the ayah, whose curiosity had dragged her forth, now and then throwing in a missing word.
“By my favour, it was the rajah’s state elephant; he had also three others; he sent them into the forest to feed and to rest, when he did not require them. This, Shere Bahadur (brave lion), was the great processional elephant, and had a superb cloth-of-gold canopy that covered him from head to tail.”
(“Poor brute!” I said to myself, “otherwise he would be a terribly distressing spectacle.”)
“Why is he so thin?” I demanded anxiously.
“Because he is old,” was the ready answer, “more than one hundred years. He had been, so folk said, a war-elephant taken in battle. He was worth thousands and thousands of rupees once. He knew no fear, and no fatigue. Moreover, he was a great shikar elephant—many tigers had he faced”—and here the mahout proudly showed me the traces of some ancient scars—“even now the Sahib Log borrowed him as an honour.”
“And what had he to eat?” I inquired.
“More than he could swallow—twelve large chupatties twice a day—this size”—holding his skinny arms wide apart—“also ghoor, and sugar-cane, and spice.”
I looked about. I saw no sign of anything but a few branches of neem tree, and the preparations for the mahout’s own meagre meal.
“Hazoor, he has had his khana—he has dined like a prince,” reiterated the mahout. “Kuda ka Kussum,” that is to say, “so help me God.”
Nevertheless I remained incredulous. I went over to the bungalow and brought out a loaf, to the extreme consternation of our khansamah—we being forty miles from the nearest bazaar bakery—this I broke in two pieces, and presented it to Shere Bahadur, who seized it ravenously. Of course it was a mere crumb, and the wrinkled eager trunk was piteously held out for more; but more I dared not give, for I was in these days entirely under the yoke of my domestics! I related my little adventure during dinner—small episodes become great ones in the jungle, where we had no news, no dâk. Afterwards we took our usual stroll in the moonlight, and Charlie and I went to visit my new acquaintance. He was alone. The mahout was away, probably smoking at a panchayet in the nearest village. In a short time we were joined by Tom, who, as he came up, exclaimed—