Part 23 (1/2)
”Holy Gunputty!” he gasped. ”If I could----”
But it was no time to waste words. Already the snakelike trunk of his enemy was stretched out to fold round him, when with a desperate spurt he reached the door, and dashed in. But Shere Bahadur was not to be denied. He stood for a moment, and then, putting forward his forefoot, staved in the side of the frail shelter and brought down the house.
Sri Ranabir hopped out like a rat, and it was well for him that in the cloud of dust and thatch flying about he was un.o.bserved, for Shere Bahadur, now careless of Bully's a.s.saults and certain of his man, was diligently searching the _debris_. But he found nothing save a bra.s.s vessel, which he savagely flung at the dog. Then he carefully stamped on the hut, and reduced everything to chaos. In the meantime Sri Ranabir, unconscious that the pursuit had ceased, ran on as if he was wound up like a clock, ran until his foot slipped, and the Maharaj Adhiraj rolled into the soft bed of a nullah, and lay there with his eyes closed, utterly beaten, and careless whether the death he had striven so hard to avoid came or not. Then there was a buzzing in his ears and everything became a blank.
”Blessed be the prophet! He liveth.” And the Vizier helped his fallen master to rise, aided by the Heir Apparent, in whose heart, however, there were thoughts far different from those which found expression on the lips of the Nawab Juggun Jung, prime minister of Kalesar. The sympathetic, if somewhat excited, court crowded round their king, and a little in the distance was the whole population of Kalesar, armed with every conceivable weapon, and keeping up their courage by beating on tom-toms, blowing horns, and shouting until the confusion of sound was indescribable.
”Come back to the palace, my lord. They will drive the evil one out of him.” And the Vizier waved his hand in the direction of the crowd, and pointed to where in the distance Shere Bahadur was making slowly and steadily for the hills. But the Maharaj Adhiraj would do no such thing. ”Ryful lao!” he roared in his vernacular; ”Gimme my gun!” he shrieked in English. There was no refusing; a double-barrelled gun was thrust in his hands, he scrambled on the back of the first horse he saw, and, followed by his cheering subjects and the whole court, dashed after the elephant.
”Mirror of the Universe, destroy him not,” advised the Vizier who rode at the prince's bridle-hand. ”The beast is worth eight thousand rupees, and cannot be replaced. The treasury is almost empty, and we will want him when the Lat Saheb comes.” The Maharaj was prudent if he was brave, and the empty treasury was a strong argument. Besides, they were getting rather close to Shere Bahadur and outpacing the faithful people. But he gave in slowly. ”What is to be done?” he asked, taking a pull at the reins.
”The people will drive him back,” replied the Vizier, ”and we will chain him up securely. He is but _must_, and in a month or so all will pa.s.s away.”
Shere Bahadur had now reached an open plain, where he stopped, and turning round, faced his pursuers.
”Go on, brave men!” shouted the Vizier. ”A thousand rupees to him who links the first chain on that Shaitan. Drive him back! Drive him back!”
There is the courage of numbers, and this the people of India possess.
They gradually formed a semi-circle round Shere Bahadur, cutting off his retreat to the hills, and attempted by shouts and the beating of tom-toms to drive him forwards. But they kept at a safe distance, and the elephant remained unmoved.
”p.r.i.c.k him forwards,” roared the Vizier. ”Are none of ye men?
Behold! the Light of the Universe watches your deeds! A _must_ elephant--_pah!_ What is it but an animal?”
”By your lords.h.i.+p's favour,” answered a voice, ”he is not _must_, only angry--there is no stream from his eye. Nevertheless, I will drive him to the lines, for I am but dust of the earth, and a thousand rupees will make me a king.” Then a red-turbaned man stepped out of the throng. It was the low-caste cooly who had been put to attend to the elephant on Aladin's death. He was armed with a short spear, and he crept up to the beast on his hands and knees, and then, rising, dug the weapon into the elephant's haunch. Shere Bahadur rapped his trunk on the ground, gave a short quick trumpet, and, swinging round, made for the man. He did this in a slow, deliberate manner, and actually allowed him to gain the crowd. Then he flung up his head with a screech and dashed forward.
_Crack_! _crack!_ went both barrels of Sri Ranabir's gun, and two bullets whistled harmlessly through the air. The panic-striken mob turned and fled, bearing the struggling prince in the press. The elephant was, however, too quick, and, to his horror, Sri Ranabir saw that he had charged home. Then Sri Ranabir also saw something that he never forgot. Not a soul did the elephant harm, but with a dogged persistence followed the red turban. Some bolder than the rest struck at him with their tulwars, some tried to stab him with their spears, and one or two matchlocks were fired at him, but to no purpose.
Through the crowd he steered straight for his prey, and the crowd itself gave back before him in a sea of frightened faces. At last the man himself seemed to realize Shere Bahadur's object, and it dawned like an inspiration on the rest. They made a road for the elephant, and he separated his quarry from the crowd. At last! He ran him down on a ploughed field and stood over the wretch. The man lay partly on his side, looking up at his enemy, and he put up his hand weakly and rested it against the foreleg of the elephant, who stood motionless above him. So still was he that a wild thought of escape must have gone through the wretch's mind, and with the resource born of imminent peril he gathered himself together inch by inch, and made a rush for freedom. With an easy sweep of his trunk Shere Bahadur brought him back into his former position, and then--the devil came out, and a groan went up from the crowd, for Shere Bahadur had dropped on his knees, and a moment after rose and kicked something, a mangled, shapeless something, backwards and forwards between his feet.
”Let him be,” said the Vizier, laying a restraining hand on Sri Ranabir. ”What has he killed but refuse? The Shaitan will go out of him now.”
When he had done the deed Shere Bahadur moved a few yards further and began to cast clods of earth over himself. Then it was seen that a small figure, with a driving-hook in its little brown hand, was making directly for the elephant.
”Come back, you little fool!” shouted Sri Ranabir. But the boy made no answer, and running lightly forward, stood before Shere Bahadur. He placed the tinsel-covered cap he wore at the beast's feet, and held up his hands in supplication. The crowd stood breathless; they could hear nothing, but the child was evidently speaking. They saw Shere Bahadur glare viciously at the boy as his trunk drooped forward in a straight line. The lad again spoke, and the elephant snorted doubtfully. Then there was no mistaking the shrill treble ”Lift!” Shere Bahadur held out his trunk in an unwilling manner. The boy seized hold of it as high as he could reach, placed his bare feet on the curl, and murmured something. A moment after he was seated on the elephant's neck, and lifting the driving-iron, waved it in the air.
”Hai!” he screamed as he drove it on to the right spot, the sore part over the left ear. ”Hai! Base-born thief, back to your lines!”
And the huge bulk of Shere Bahadur turned slowly round and shambled off to the peepul tree like a lamb.
”By the trunk of Gunputty! I will make that lad a havildar, and the thousand rupees shall be his,” swore the Maharaj.
”Pillar of the earth!” advised the Vizier, ”let this unworthy one speak. It is Futteh Din, the dead Aladin's son. Give him five rupees, and _let him be mahout_.”
When I last saw Shere Bahadur he was pa.s.sing solemnly under the old archway of the ”Gate of the Hundred Winds” at Kalesar. The Maharaj Adhiraj was seated in the howdah, with his excellency the Nawab Juggun Jung by his side. On the driving-seat was Futteh Din, gorgeous in cloth of gold, and they were on their way to the funeral-pyre of the Heir Apparent, who had died suddenly from a surfeit of cream.