Part 15 (2/2)
Burra Moti knew the elephant was running away, and, at a command, shuffled forward with the intent of peeling the tiger from his perch with her trunk. But the fleeing animal, taking Moti for a new enemy, swerved to the right under the pipal, a long arm of which swept away the howdah, leaving Herr Boelke sprawled on the limb like a huge gorilla and yelling: ”_Ach, Gott!_ Hel-lp!”
The tiger was carried away in the wreck, and now, thirty feet away, was crouched, his tail las.h.i.+ng from side to side.
The girl had struggled to her feet and stood dazed, clinging to the wrecked howdah. The tiger was in a nasty mood; he would charge the first move the girl made, Finnerty knew, and nothing but a miracle shot through the heart or brain could stop him in time to save her. Ordering the mahout to pick the girl up, he dropped to the ground. Holding his gun from the hip, both barrels c.o.c.ked, he slipped past the girl to stand between her and the snarling brute, saying: ”Keep cool! Keep your face to the tiger and step back; the elephant will pick you up.”
His blue, fearless, Irish eye lay along the gun barrels, looking into the yellow eyes of the tiger as he spoke to the girl. Well he knew how straight his shot must be, or that flat, sloping forehead, with its thick plate of bone, would glance the bullet like armour plate.
A little cry of pain, the thud of a falling body, told him that the girl had gone down at the first step. For a fraction of a second his eye had wavered from the gun-sight, and the tiger, with a hoa.r.s.e growl, rose in his catapult charge. Both barrels of Finnerty's rifle blazed as he was swept backward by a push from Moti's trunk, and the tiger landed upon two gleaming ivory swords that, with a twist of the mighty head, threw him twenty feet into the scrub.
With a roar of disgruntled anger he bounded away toward cover in the cane, pursued by Gilfain, whose mahout had driven the elephant across at the sound of the tiger's charge.
Finnerty, telling the mahout to make Moti kneel, turned to the girl, who sat with a hand clasping an ankle, her face white with pain; and as he lifted her like a child, like a child she whispered with breaking pa.s.sion: ”You, you! G.o.d--why should it be you again?”
Then Finnerty commanded the mahout to retrieve Herr Boelke from his perch, pick up the prince, who had scuttled off some distance when he fell, and take them home.
When the prince had been lifted to the howdah on a curl of Moti's trunk, he waved his hand to the major, calling: ”Devilish plucky, old chap; thanks for the elephant.”
The elephant bearing Lord Victor and the captain returned, and the major tossed up a gold cigarette case he had found beside the broken howdah, saying: ”You can give that to Prince Ananda; fancy he dropped it.”
It looked familiar to Lord Victor. ”Yes,” he said, ”I'm sure it's his. I know I've seen it at Oxford.”
Plodding homeward in the solemn dejection of an unsuccessful hunt, even the ears of their elephant flapping disconsolately like sails of a windless boat, Finnerty suggested: ”If you chaps would like it, we can swing around to your bungalow across the plain.”
”Topping!” Lord Victor cried. ”I'm so despondent I want a peg.”
At the bungalow Finnerty alighted for a whisky and soda; and Gilfain, after reading a note his servant had handed him, advised:
”The prince wants me at the palace for dinner, and a confab over old Oxford days; the note came after we had gone to the hunt. Devilish fuzzy order, I call it--what! I can't leave you to dine alone, old boy.”
”The captain can come with me--the very thing!” Major Finnerty declared eagerly.
The arrangement suited Swinton perfectly; it would give him an unplanned chance to talk with the major. And Gilfain would, of course, have to honour the prince's invitation.
It was a somewhat tame dinner for two; though Ananda plied his lords.h.i.+p with wine of an alluring vintage, for he had a ”hare to catch,” as the native proverb has it. He was most anxious to discover as much as possible about Captain Swinton's mission. By a curious chance he had learned who Lord Victor's companion was--that he was Captain Herbert, a secret-service man.
But Lord Victor was automatically unresponsive to the several subtle leads of his host for the simple reason that he didn't even know that Captain Swinton was in reality Captain Herbert; and as to the mission--any mission--why, it was to shoot game, to keep out of England for a season. Prince Ananda was puzzled. Either Lord Victor was cleverer than he had been at Oxford, or he knew absolutely nothing. Indeed, the subject of Captain Swinton bored Gilfain; he saw enough of his companion in the day. He was wis.h.i.+ng Ananda would say something about the mysterious lady.
It was when the cigarettes were brought that he remembered the gold case. Drawing it from his pocket, he said: ”Oh, devilish stupid! I forgot--brought your cigarette case.”
But Ananda disclaimed the owners.h.i.+p. ”That's not mine,” he said.
”Rather! Finnerty picked it up at the broken howdah. It's the same one you had at Oxford, I think; I remember seeing it, anyway.”
Prince Ananda took the gold case and examined it thoughtfully; then said: ”By Jove! I didn't know I'd lost it; thought it was in my shooting togs. Thanks, old chap.”
Of course, as it had been found at the howdah, it must belong to the girl--the Herr Boelke smoked cheroots--though the prince did not remember having seen it with her. But he said nothing as to its true owners.h.i.+p as he slipped it into his pocket.
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