Part 33 (1/2)

”Not ever!” the boy answered quickly, ”but even if he doesn't come--they almost always do something interesting. That's why we never call them animals or beasts, but sometimes creatures--because they have a kind of intelligence we have not. And that's why we _always_ speak of them as persons.”

”I like that,” Skag put in.

”From end to end of India,” the boy went on, ”down Bombay side and up Calcutta side, regiments of elephants go with regiments of men--in the never-ending fatigue marching that keeps them all fit.

”The tenting and commissariat-stuff is carried by the elephants, straight from camp to camp, safe and sure and in proper time--always.

That's the point, you understand, Skag Sahib--they never run away with it, or lose it, or go aside into the jungle to eat. You're going to see one regiment start out to-day.

”The man-regiment will go another road--a little longer, but not so rough. The elephant regiment will go by themselves, just one mahout on each neck--like you would carry a mouse. Really, they go on their own honour; because men have no power to control them--only with their voices. You know Government doesn't permit elephants to be shot, for anything--only in case one is court-martialled and sentenced to die.”

”Don't the mahouts ever punish them?” Skag asked.

”They're not allowed to torture them--never mind what! And men can't punish elephants any other way--they're not big enough.”

Then a voice rolled out of the dust-glamour before them. In quality and reach and power, it reminded Skag of a marvel voice that used to call newspapers in the big railway station in Chicago.

”Whose voice?” he asked Horace.

”That's the master-mahout. He calls the elephants; you'll see. He's the only kind of mahout who ever gets pay for himself.”

”How's that?”

”It's what makes the elephant-military a proper department. Only elephant names on the books; the pay goes to them. The mahout is always an elephant's servant; he eats from his master, of course. From the outside it saves a lot of trouble, to be sure.”

Skag laughed. From the elephant standpoint, a small Englishman was conceding a certain amount of convenience to men.

”You see,” the boy went on, ”an elephant lives anyway more than a hundred years; and his name stays just like that and draws pay without changing. Always a mahout's son takes his place, when he gets too old or dies. I can recall when Mitha Baba's mahout was one of the most wonderful of them all. Now he has gone old, as they say; and his son is on her neck.”

There was a moment when Skag would have given his soul--almost--if he might have grown up in India, as this child was growing up; in the heart of her ancient knowledges--in the breath of her mystic power.

Then a great plain opened before them. It appeared at first glance, completely full of elephants.

. . . The glamour of sun-drenched dust hung over all.

Looking more closely, Skag saw nothing but elephant ranks toward the right, and nothing but elephant ranks toward the left; but in the centre, a large area was covered with separate piles of dunnage, evenly distributed.

From where he stood toward where the sun would set--a broad division stretched; and in the middle of this division, a single line of loaded elephants filed away and away to the horizon.

. . . Skag became oblivious. He was so thralled with the sight that he did not notice what was nearer. The whole panorama held his breath till right before him a great creature rose from sitting--without a sound. There was a dignity about its movement not less than majestic.

It was a mighty load; but the huge shape slid away as smooth as flowing water--as easy as a drifting cloud.

A deep voice said quietly:

”Peace, master; go thy way. Peace, son.”

”Did he speak to both of them?” Skag asked of Horace.

”Yes; the first part was to the elephant and the last part was to the mahout. This mahout must be one of the great ones, else the master-mahout would not have spoken to him. But he will always speak to the elephants--something.”

A strange name filled the air, rolling up and away. It was followed by a courteous request, in softer tones; and Skag watched another big elephant approach from the unpicketed lines. It came to where the master-mahout stood, close to a pile of tenting, wheeled to face the way it should go presently, and sank down to be loaded.