A word or two in Hindustani from the doctor to the mahout, and our elephant began to shuffle toward the one coming, for Brace had gone on at once.
Our elephant made a good circuit to avoid the dead tiger, holding his trunk high, and evidently in doubt as to whether the beast was feigning death; and directly after we were close up to the messenger, whom I saw to be Denny, the man who had come over in the Jumna, and whose sweetheart I had jumped overboard to save.
“What is it, Denny? Anything wrong?” cried Brace.
The man gave him a wild look, and nodded his head, as he held on by one hand to the rope which secured the elephant’s pad.
“Well, well!” cried Brace, excitedly; “what is it? Speak.”
The man’s lips parted, and one hand went up towards his head, while the mahout who had brought him looked back with his face full of horror. Then, as our elephant was urged up on the other side, the doctor reached over from the howdah, and by a quick movement caught the poor fellow’s arm just as his hold had given way, and he was about to pitch off the pad to the ground.
“I thought so,” cried the doctor, helping to lower him down. “He was fainting. The poor fellow has been wounded—badly, too!”
“What is this? How did he get hurt?” cried Brace to the mahout in Hindustani.
“My lord, I don’t know. He came on a poor horse, and ordered me to come to you. My lord, he is very bad.”
Just then the rajah came up, and I fancied there was a peculiar look in his face. He had changed colour, and seemed wild and strange, and when Brace fixed his eyes upon him he averted his gaze.