"They send us along where the roads are, but mostly we goes where they ain't;
We'd climb up the side of a sign-board an' trust to the stick o' the paint;
We've chivied the Naga an' Lushai, we've give the Afreedee man fits,
For we fancies ourselves at two thousand, we guns that are built in two bits."
CHAPTER IX
OF ELEPHANTS
"The torn boughs trailing o'er the tusks aslant,
The saplings reeling in the path he trod,
Declare his might,—our lord the elephant,
Chief of the ways of God.
"The black bulk heaving where the oxen pant,
The bowed head toiling where the guns careen,
Declare our might,—our slave the elephant,
The servant of the Queen."
R. K.
FROM THE SANCHI TOPE