Part 34 (1/2)

”What's the meaning of it?” Skag asked.

Little Horace d.i.c.kson answered in a hushed way--as one in the presence of a miracle:

”It is one of the regulars, come back to take a part of what belongs to the sick elephant.”

Skag looked at the boy's face, in incredulous amazement. It was lit--awe and exaltation were both there. Then he noticed the look of the master-mahout--that was a revelation.

. . . They were putting half as much again on top of the already loaded elephant.

. . . Certain phrases went through Skag's brain, as he watched the thing done--over and over. _No one had called this elephant back. He came before they knew themselves that an elephant was sick. When the mahouts first went to examine the sick one--this one was already on the way. How did he know?_

The extra loaded elephant rose and started again. Then a great shout went up. Tones of many voices filled the slanting sun-rays in all the glamour of dust. The wonderful voice of the master-mahout loomed above all:

”Wisdom and excellence are thy parts, oh Thou! Justice and kindness--we who are poor in them--will learn of thee! Thou son of strength, thou child of ancient knowledges and worth!”

And the mahouts shouted again!

At that moment Skag knew as well as he knew anything in life, that he stood somewhere in the outer courts of a great animal-cult; and he was convinced that it was of a mystic nature--however that could be. He swore in his heart that he would never give up, till he got further in.

The master-mahout's voice ascended now on a strange call. It was a lift-lift-lifting tone.

”What does that mean?” Skag asked.

”All the elephants know that--it's the lifting call,” Horace explained.

”When an elephant is sick--unless they have an extra number in the regiment--they always call for two to volunteer; and they divide the load of the sick elephant between them. They use these tones instead of a name--just for that. There comes a male now, to take the rest of this load.”

Skag watched the added load going into place on the volunteer. It was almost finished, when a trumpet blast sounded directly behind him--toward Hurda. Several elephants answered from the regiment; and many mahouts called to each other.

”Is that the bad fighter coming?” Skag asked.

”Yes, Skag Sahib, that's Nut Kut. But I don't know just what you're going to see--the ones who ought to handle him are all gone.”

The master-mahout's voice was rising up into the vault of heaven and falling over upon the horizon. It seemed to Skag the like was never heard before.

”He's calling the two big tuskers back,” Horace chuckled, ”but there'll be doings on before they get here! Will you listen to Nut Kut's challenge?”

Skag turned to face the looming trumpet tones. There were no tones behind him like them. Smooth and mellow, they were yet so full of power as to make all the others sound insignificant. They were like love-tones translated into thunder.

But when Nut Kut came in sight, Skag caught his breath. The shape was made of gleaming bronze. No detail showed; it was a thing that took the eye and the breath and the blood. There was no look of effort in its inscrutable motion.

They stood in the open, between this thing and the regiment behind.

There was no obstruction. And Skag moved to be between it and Horace--when it should pa.s.s them on its way. The regiment of thoroughly trained elephants were standing firmly in their places; but they were making the welkin ring with a thousand trumpets in the air.

Certainly Skag knew that this incredible thing before him--bigger every second--was Nut Kut. He looked to see why the great challenge-tones had stopped, and revelation went through him--like an explosion. Nut Kut had seen Horace and was coming straight for him.

Skag leaped to meet Nut Kut first, but he couldn't catch the elephant's eye. The huge shape was upon him and he was flung aside. Recovering himself almost instantly, he got around in time to see--but not in time to prevent.

Horace lifted both arms and leaned forward--his grey eyes gone black--as Nut Kut's trunk caught him. A little broken cry came from him and his death-white face hung down an instant--from high up.

Then, backing away, swaying from side to side, Nut Kut set his eyes on the man who followed--his red eyes, blazing with red warning. The American animal trainer did not fail to understand; he paused.