"Khubbadar (take care), sahib!" he cried in warning. "The fit is on him again. The jungle calls him. He is mad."
Dermot paid no attention to him but hastened on to intercept the elephant which stalked on with ears thrust forward and tail raised, ready to give battle to any one that dared stop him.
The Major whistled. Badshah checked in his stride, then as a well-known voice fell on his ear he faltered and looked about him. Dermot spoke his name and the elephant turned and went straight to him, to the amazement of the peelkhana attendants watching from behind trees on the hillside. Yet they feared lest his intention was to attack the sahib, for when a tame tusker is seized with a fit of madness, it often kills even its mahout, to whom ordinarily it is much attached.
Dermot raised his hand. Badshah stopped and sank on his knees, while his master cast off the broken shackles and swung himself astride of his neck. Then the elephant rose again and of his own volition rolled swiftly forward into the jungle which closed around them and hid animal and man from the astounded watchers.
One by one the mahouts and coolies stole from the shelter of the trees and gathered together.
"Wah! Wah! the sahib has gone mad, too," exclaimed an old Mohammedan.
"He will never return alive," said another, shaking his head sorrowfully. "Afsos hun (I am sorry), for he was a good sahib. The shaitan (devil) has borne him away to Eblis (hell)."
Here Ramnath broke in indignantly:
"My elephant is no shaitan. He is Gunesh, the god Gunesh himself. He will let no harm come to the sahib, who is safe under his protection."
The other Hindus among the elephant attendants nodded agreement.