"Tusk! Why, he's blood to the eyes," exclaimed another.
For the leaping flames revealed the fact that Badshah's tusk, trunk, and legs were covered with freshly-dried blood.
"Good Heavens! he's been wading in it."
"What's that on his tusk? Why, it's fragments of flesh. Oh, the deuce!"
There were exclamations of surprise and horror from the white men. But the mass of coolies, who had been pressing forward to stare, drew back into the darkness and muttered to each other.
"The god! The god! Who can withstand the god?" they whispered.
"Arhé, bhai! (Aye, brother!) But which is the god? The elephant or his rider? Tell me that!" exclaimed a grey-haired coolie.
Among the Europeans the questions showered on Dermot redoubled.
"Look here, you fellows. I can't answer you all at once," he expostulated. "It's a long story. But please remember that Miss Daleham has had a tiring day and must be worn out."
"Oh, no, I'm not," exclaimed the girl. "Not now. I was fatigued, but I'm too excited to rest yet."