A FAILURE.
Had Dr. Baird Avery and George Harking been alone, they would have
felt pleasure in their singular adventure with the elephant, which
was bearing them so swiftly away from their friends.
"He'll get tired after a while," called out Harkins, "and then maybe
we can persuade him to change his course."
"Yes, but we can't afford to wait until he reaches some point on the
other side of Kurnal: why can't he turn now, when it will do some
good?"
And the surgeon threw his whole might into a number of gesticulations
meant to reach the understanding of the brute.
The huge animals are capable of great speed, as the one ridden by our
friends proved. The night was still, but the air fanned the faces of
the two, who knew they were carried at a gait nearly equal to that of
a running horse.
There was danger in dismounting at such a time, though should it
become necessary, neither would hesitate to run the risk of receiving
some severe bruises.
The report of a gun was heard behind them, followed by a shrill cry.
"They are pursuing us," said Harkins, looking back in the moonlight;
"they have missed the elephant, and are chasing him on horseback."
"I'm afraid this enterprise is not a success," replied the doctor;
"the beast has found out that the mahout is not here with his sharp
goad, and he doesn't catch on to what we are trying to tell him: we
had better jump."
"He is going so fast that we are likely to be hurt; is an elephant
very long winded?"
"Not specially so."
"He isn't likely to keep this gait much longer, and when he moderates
it we will slip off."
The strange cry from the rear was repeated. It must have been a call
to the elephant which he recognized, for he stopped so short that the
consequences to those on his back were disastrous.
Dr. Avery, who was in the howdah, was leaning over, the better to
talk with Harkins, who was astride the neck of the animal. Like a
flash he shot out of the saddle, describing a complete somersault.
Providentially he landed on his feet, much shaken but unharmed.
Harkins grasped the edge of the howdah just in time to save himself
from going off. Confused as to what had become of his companion, he
clung to the support, and the elephant, swinging about like the rapid
turning of a bridge, started down the road with greater speed than
before.
It was now a question whether Harkins was running away with the
elephant or whether the latter was making off with him. Neither had
any control over the other.
But the rider saw that the situation was serious. The brute was
obeying the call of the mahout with great enthusiasm, and if the
rider remained on his back he was sure to be carried directly among
the friends of the elephant, to whom he would find it hard to make a
satisfactory explanation.
"I must leave," was his sensible conclusion.
The elephant showed a desire to help him. The position of the
saddle, its size and elevation were such that he could not reach the
interloper with his trunk, so he made at full speed for a large tree
alongside the road.
The sagacious animal meant to dislodge him by scraping off the whole
howdah. When that came tumbling to the earth, Mr. Harkins would be
likely to go too. And that explains why the brute made for the
branches like a runaway locomotive.
With all his natural shrewdness the rider did not suspect the
elephant's purpose in time to save himself. The first that he saw
and felt was the switching of the branches about his face and then
the scraping, sawing and banging of the heavy limbs. Almost at the
same instant he saw the howdah was going.
Amid the general wreck and crash his actions were governed by that
instinct which guides one when he knows he is struggling for life.
One of his outstretched hands seized a strong branch. The rifle
which he grasped with the other was an encumbrance, but he was able
to hold on while the howdah passed from under him and crashed to the
ground. The elephant, never ceasing his ponderous progress, lumbered
down the road, caring nothing for the wreck he left behind.
Harkins easily held himself by means of the strong limb which he had
grasped, and, drawing himself up among the branches, where the leaves
sheltered him from sight, he waited to learn what the pursuers--who
were but a short distance away--would do. Indeed, they were so near
that the Englishman saw they numbered five horsemen.
Naturally they were in no very amiable mood. Having stopped the
runaway, they turned him back to the tree, where an inventory of
damages was taken.
While the natives were making the inspection they gave constant
expression to their anger. They called the elephant all kinds of bad
names, and even abused his ancestors, thereby plainly slurring the
purity of his descent. The big beast took it all meekly, probably
aware that his conduct deserved such reproach.
It is not to be supposed that any of the pursuers suspected the
presence of the _cowen_ in the limbs above. Most likely they
believed the elephant had taken a whim to run away on his own
account. Had they known the guilty Feringhee was perched above their
heads, they would have been quick to visit their vengeance upon him.
But the brute was aware that the rascal was hiding there, and he
tried to make it known to his masters. He walked about among the
limbs, thrusting his trunk among them, and betraying an uneasiness
which it would seem ought to have given a hint of the truth, but it
did not. They started back, driving the runaway before them, and
Harkins, waiting till they were beyond sight, descended from the tree.