There was no farther alarm, though, and all seemed as silent as could be; so once more under orders, the march was continued till we were out from amidst the houses, and travelling over the sandy dusty plain; when there was another alarm—we were followed—so said the men in the rear; and sure enough, looming up against the darkness—a mass of darkness itself—we could see an elephant.
The men were faced round, and a score of pieces were directed at the great brute; but when within three or four yards, it was plain enough that it was alone, and Measles says aloud: “Blest if it isn’t old Nabob!”
The old elephant it was; and passing through, he went up to where Harry Lant was calling him softly, knelt down to order; and then, climbing and clinging on as well as they could, the great brute’s back was covered with women and children—the broad shallow howdah pretty well taking the lot—while the great beast seemed as pleased as possible to get back amongst his old friends, rubbing his trunk first on this one and then on that; and thankful we were for the help he gave us, for how else we should have got over that desert plain I can’t say.
I should think we had gone a good eight miles, when Measles ranges up close aside me as I walked by the elephant, looking up at the riding-party from time to time, and trying to make out which was Lizzy, and pitying them too, for the children were fretful, and it was a sad time they had of it.
“They’ll have it hot there sometime to-morrow morning, Ike,” says Measles to me.
“Where?” I said faintly, for I was nearly done for, and I did not take much interest in anything.
“Begumbagh,” he says. And when I asked him what he meant, he said: “How much powder do you think there was down in that vault?”
“A good five hundredweight,” I said.
“All that,” says Measles. “They’ll have it hot, some of ’em.”
“What do you mean?” I said, getting interested.