‘Ya Alla!’ cried Kasim, ‘will they not let her go free—she and the young one? Listen, Khan, to her moans. By the Prophet I will not fire—I cannot.’
But the others continued the attack; and it was evident that she could not hold out much longer. She made one more desperate effort, but was beaten back by loud shouts and rockets, and her moans, and the cries of the calf, became more piteous than ever.
‘For the sake of Alla put her out of pain!’ said the Khan. ‘Aim now again just over the eye, in the temple; be steady, the shot is sure to kill. Now! see they are going to fire again at her.’
Kasim raised his unerring matchlock: the firing had ceased at the moment—all were loading. One sharp crack was heard, and the poor beast sank down without a moan or a struggle.
A crowd rushed forward to seize the calf, which was pushing its mother with its proboscis and head, as if to raise her up, uttering even more touching and piteous cries than ever. Alas! to no purpose. It had by a miracle escaped the shower of balls, and was strong enough to give much trouble to its captors ere it was secured. The Sultaun, who had looked on in silence, now dismounted to examine it; and all his officers and courtiers, Mahomedan and Hindoo, followed his example. The scene was a striking one, as that splendidly-dressed group stood beneath the shade of the noble teak-trees, by the waterfall and the clear stream which murmured over shining pebbles. Behind them was the rock, a sheer precipice of fifty feet, covered with flowers and creepers and beautiful mosses; by it lay the dead female, and near her the male elephant, whose length some were measuring and registering.
Already more than one had tried the temper of his sword upon the dead elephant’s carcass, and the Sultaun stepped forward to see the exercise, which requires a strong and steady hand, and a fair cut, or the sword would bend or break.
Many had performed the feat with various success—none better than our friend Kasim; and many others were awaiting their turn, when the young elephant, bound and secured, was brought before the Sultaun. Instantly it appeared to Kasim that his eye lighted up with the same cruel expression he had once or twice noticed, and his countenance to appear as if a sudden thought had struck him.
‘Bind it fast!’ he cried to the attendants, ‘tie it so that it cannot move.’ For the poor thing was bleating and crying out loudly at its rude usage, while its innocent face and tremblings expressed terror most strongly. The order was obeyed—it was bound with ropes to two adjacent trees.
‘Now,’ cried the Sultaun, looking around him proudly, and drawing his light but keen blade, ‘by the blessing of the Prophet we are counted to have some skill in our Qusrut—let us prove it!’ So saying, and while a shudder at the cruelty of the act ran round the circle, and the Hindoos present trembled at the impiety, he bared his arm, and advancing, poised himself on one foot, while the glittering blade was uplifted above his head. At last it descended; but being weakly aimed, the back of the poor beast yielded to the blow, while it screamed with the pain. Almost human was that scream! The Sultaun tried again and again, losing temper at every blow, but with no better success.
‘Curse on the blade!’ he cried, throwing it upon the ground; ‘it is not sharp enough, or we should have cut the beast in two pieces at a blow.’ Several stepped forward and offered their swords; he took one and looked around—his eye was full of wanton mischief. ‘Now Ramah, Seit,’ he cried to a portly Hindoo banker who was near, ‘thou shalt try.’