"I have never seen it Sahib. It is what they say."
"A pair of mottled ears is the nearest I ever came to seeing a white elephant, and I've hunted them for thirty years, here, in Ceylon, in Burma, in Africa. There was once a tiger near Madras that hadn't any stripes. The natives would not permit him to be killed because they held that, being unique, he was sacred. A sacred white elephant! Poor simple-minded fools!" The colonel felt in his pockets, then dropped his hands dispiritedly. How long since he had tasted tobacco? "Bruce, have you got a cheroot in your pocket? I think a smoke would brace me up."
Bruce laughed and passed up a broken cigar, which the colonel lighted carefully. The weariness seemed to go out of his face magically.
"This Bala Khan should be Mohammedan," said Bruce. "The Pathan despises the Hindu."
"There are Hindus in yonder city; quite as many," said Ramabai, "as there are Mohammedans. Even the Pathan expects that which he can not understand."
"Isn't that the wall behind that sand-hill? Let me have the glasses a moment. Colonel.… H'm! The walled city, all right. Some people moving about outside. Dancers, I should say."
"Professional," explained Ramabai.
"Nothing religious, then? By George!"
"What is it?" asked the colonel.
"Take a look. There's an elephant being led into the city gates."