As he muttered he stepped to the door and applied his eye to one of the cracks through which the sun was streaming, and then drew back, for the glare affected his eye.
“Shines hot,” he muttered; “and it wasn’t coming in like that when I looked through just now, before beginning to eat that banana. Well,” he ejaculated, “it’s a rum ’un! I’ve got it now! Why, I must have been asleep hours and hours and hours. It ain’t this evening. When I looked it was all turning red because the sun was going down. It’s to-morrow morning, and I’ve been asleep all night. I’m a nice sort of a chap, I am, to go on duty and leave my officer in the lurch like that! Well, he must have been asleep too. There’s no gammon about it, for it is to-morrow morning, and he could not have woke up, because I should have heared him; so that’s all right. Poor chap! And it must have done him good. But now I can think again, and my head don’t ache so much. I feel better, and there’s been no old Job Tipsy to drop upon me.—I wish there was, and a lot of our fellows with him,” said the poor fellow dismally.
He crossed softly to where Archie lay breathing calmly, and then, as if feeling satisfied, he went back to the great earthen jar, refreshed himself with another draught of water, and seated himself by the basket, from which he took one of the bananas and began to eat.
“I’m quite peckish,” he said to himself, “and, my word, they are good! I don’t know how long it is since I felt like this. It must be a good sign. Well, there’s plenty of them,” he continued, and he took another, and another. “Not half bad,” he went on, “as there’s no commissariat coffee. Must leave plenty for Mr Archie, though. But ’nanas don’t seem the sort of tack for a poor chap with his complaint. Wishing ain’t no good, or I’d do it with both hands, and wish old Jollop was here to look at his tongue and to strap up that head of his. It ought to have all the hair cut off, but one can’t do that with a blunt knife. Hullo! what’s that?” he muttered, after satisfying himself with the fruit from the basket. “I believe it’s one of those two-tailed pigs grunting and chuntering.”
He went to the opening through which he had peered before, and looked out.
“Can’t see anything,” he muttered, “but it sounds like one of them coming back. Yes, I can! It is—just coming through the trees. Why, he’s all wet, and dripping with mud and water. That’s it. They have been driven down by their keeper to the river. Yes, there must be a river; and I say, lad, there’s something to recollect. This ’ere place is somewhere up the river, or down it. Yes, down it, because up the river the water’s clear, and down it, it gets muddy. Oh, I don’t know. I dare say there’s muddy places up the banks. There, stop that chuntering row. Just like a drove of pigs. He’s coming back to his stable somewhere. Why, he’s coming straight here, just as if he meant to knock the door down and get in. Well, if he did he wouldn’t hurt us. He’s only a tame one. That little chap made three of them shuffle off. But what a chance to cut if he opens the door! Oh dear!” he added, with a sigh. “Talk about cutting, with the young governor like he is! And even if he could walk, we don’t know the way. Wonder where we are. It must be the Rajah’s place somewhere right up in the jungle where he keeps his helephants, and that there Frenchman put him up to keeping his hostriches, as he called them, up here too.”
Peter Pegg’s mutterings and musing were brought to a sudden end by the elephant, which seemed to be quite alone, coming close up to the doorway, grunting and chuntering, as the young private called it, just as if the animal were talking to itself, mingling its remarks with a low squeal which might have meant either anger or satisfaction.
“I believe,” thought Peter, “it’s one of them that came to the sham-fight, and I could almost fancy it’s the chap I had a ride on. But they are all alike, only one’s bigger than another, and t’other’s more small. If he had got his toggery on with gold fringes and the big bamboo clothes-basket full of cushions on his back, I should know him directly. But he’s what they call disguised in mud.—Here, I say, don’t! What you doing on?”
It was plain enough, for the great elephant had seized hold of a portion of the woven, basket-like wall, which began to crack and give way as a piece was torn out.
“I say, don’t—don’t be a fool! You’ll wake the poor governor,” whispered Peter, who began to tremble now with alarm.—“Oh, don’t I wish I could remember what the mahout said to him!—Here, I say, don’t!—I believe he’s gone mad, and if he gets at us— Here, I say, what shall I do?” And he backed away from where the light was beginning to show more brightly through the woven wall, and took up his position as if to protect his wounded officer. “If I had only got my rifle and bayonet, I could keep him off, perhaps, with a good dig. Here, they have left me my knife, though,” he said joyously, as he drew it out and opened the blade.