COMING HOME TO ROOST
That day passed away quietly enough, the enemy making no sign; but
scouts reported that they were in hiding in all directions.
"They mean to starve us out, boys," said Mr. Kenyon.
"Oh," said Harry, "then they'll have to take care that they don't get
starved first, for now the elephants are gone I suppose we could live
for a month on the grain."
It was as if the very mention of the word elephants had been the
introduction to what was to come, for just then the peculiar noise
known as trumpeting--which is really an agreeable blend in the way of
noises, of pig in a gate, the final _haw_, prolonged and intense, of a
donkey's bray, and the hoarse crow of a Cochin China cock--came
faintly in through the open windows of the hall.
Harry ran and looked out to where Sree and Lahn sat waiting and
listening.
"What was that, Sree?" he cried, as Phra followed him and looked out
too.
"It was an elephant, Sahib," said the hunter.
"Yes, it was old Sul," cried Phra excitedly.
"I know," cried Harry, laughing. "They've been and had a tremendous
good feed out in the jungle, and now they've all come back."
Harry was quite right, as examination proved, for the elephants had
been thoroughly well trained, and treated in a way which made them
prefer their civilized home to the jungle. So after a few words with
Mr. Kenyon the King gave orders that a strong party should go across
to the gate and guard it while the animals were admitted.
The two boys hastened to join the party, taking Sree with them, when,
having learned wisdom from the last time the gates were opened,
ladders were placed against the wall, and a good look-out kept, so
that no advance could be made along the side ditch or by the wall
unnoticed.
All being declared clear, and the guard stationed ready on either
side, the gate was unfastened, the elephants standing patiently
waiting, the trumpeting having ceased as soon as the first man's head
appeared above the wall, while directly the gate was being dragged
open, Sul thrust his head against it and pushed, making the task
particularly easy. But as soon as there was ample room he uttered a
peculiar squeak, and shuffled off across the park-like grounds,
followed by the troop of ten, all evidently eager to get back to their
old quarters, to which they made their way.
"They'll want to go off again," said Harry, laughing. "Aren't you glad
to see them back, Phra?"
"Glad? Of course; it seemed horrible to lose them all. I never
expected to see either of them again."
"What are you shaking your head at, Sree?" cried Harry, as they waited
till the gates were once more secure.
"I was listening to what the Sahib said," replied the old hunter. "I
am not surprised to see the elephants come back. Once they get used to
man, and find he is a friend who feeds them, and treats them well,
they do not want to leave him. Some of the mahouts are cruel, and make
their heads sore with the goads, but I think kindness is best. I have
made friends with the great beasts, often with big ones that the
mahouts said were savage-tempered and dangerous. I never found them
so."
"Not when they were mad?" said Phra.
"Oh, yes, then," replied the man. "They are dangerous at times, and it
does not do to trust them much. Better let them loose in the jungle."
"We might as well have made old Sul stop and carry us back," said
Harry. "I say; there were no fighting men anywhere outside; do you
think they will come to-night?"
"Who knows, Sahib? Perhaps not to-night, but they will come and try to
take the place, or they would not be waiting as I saw them this
morning. They have some plan in their minds, but we are ready, and
must meet them when they come."
But there was no sign of the enemy that night, nor the next, and such
a state of calm that it was hard to imagine that the palace was still
beleaguered. There was no doubt of this, though, for it was only
necessary to send out a scout in any direction for him to find bodies
of the enemy watching the palace, and ready to check any attempt at
escape, if such had been the intention of the besieged.
This state of quietude enabled Mr. Kenyon and his English friends to
finish several little arrangements for the defence, and the risk of
fire was reduced by the amount of water provided for checking the
first attempt to destroy the place, if such should prove to be the
enemy's design. The earthwork at the great gates, too, was
strengthened; for though there was the possibility of the attack being
made in another portion of the defences, it seemed probable that it
would be made as before.
"They're like elephants, Hal," Phra said contemptuously; "they keep to
the old track."
The halt on the part of the enemy gave the doctor's patients a better
chance of amendment, and the spirit that was within made several ready
to return to the duties of the defence, each declaring that he would
get better more quickly busy with his friends than lying as an invalid
in bed, in spite of the gentle ministrations of the ladies, who did
everything possible to help the doctor with his charge.
Generally speaking, everything now had settled down in the palace to a
complete state of routine. Watches were regularly set, including one
on the roof, by the flagstaff, whence portions of the river could be
seen; and longing looks were constantly cast, in the vain hope of
seeing help in the shape of the well-manned boats of some British
man-o'-war.
Plans too were made as to the provisioning of the little garrison, and
arranging that the stores should last as long as possible. This duty,
with the care for the health of the place, devolved upon the doctor
who proved to be most stern in his insistence upon every one obeying
his rules.
Harry and Phra took their turns in going on duty, and it fell to their
lot to superintend the guard when the elephants were let out and
returned from the jungle, the sagacious beasts marching off regularly
every morning, and forming a regular path across the grounds to the
distant gates, while, strange to state, a whole week elapsed without
the enemy again interfering and attempting to gain an entrance at such
times.
"There is a meaning in it all, father says. They have lost so many men
that they have determined to starve us out," Phra said one morning to
his companion.
"Yes; so my father thinks," replied Harry; "or else it is that they
are waiting for reinforcements."
"I don't think they would have to wait," replied Phra. "No; depend
upon it, they think we shall give up soon, and lay down our arms."
"So that they may march in and jump upon us, and then cut off our
heads?"
Phra's face looked quite old with wrinkles as he gave his companion a
sombre look, and then nodded.
"Perhaps they would be content, and let you English people off, if you
gave up my father and his faithful friends."
"And you with them?" said Harry gravely.
"Of course."
"Can't spare you, old chap. Bah! What are you talking about? If they
think anything of that sort, they are more stupid than I thought for.
Give up? They don't know what English people are yet. Why, Phra, we
shall go on fighting till all the provisions are done, and then we
shall make a fresh start."
"How?"
"By killing one of the elephants and eating him. Let's see; eleven of
them. How long would they last?"
"Nonsense!"
"'Tisn't. Old Mike would cook them so as to make something good, and
so that they wouldn't be tough."
"Don't make fun out of our troubles," said Phra bitterly.
"Why not? they're bad enough, so one needn't try to make them worse."
"What I dread is--" began Phra, but Harry interrupted him.
"I know; that the enemy won't come and be well thrashed."
"No; that the water supply will be stopped. Father wondered that they
had not dug up the bamboo pipes and cut that off."
"Pooh! Let them. Father and Doctor Cameron talked that over the other
night, and they said that near as we are to the river they would find
water before we had dug down ten feet, and there would be abundance.
Look here, Phra; I've thought over it all, and now the place is so
strong we can laugh at the enemy and starve them out. Give up? Why, if
it came to the worst, we should shut ourselves up in that wing, and
blow away the big passage which joins it to the rest of the palace.
Then we should defend it step by step till we were on the roof, and
fight there till the last of us was killed. English people would
rather die fighting than give up to be murdered by a set of savages
like the enemy."
Phra was silent.
"Well, wouldn't you?" said Harry.
"Yes," said Phra gravely. "I suppose I should be horribly frightened,
but I should know that it was my duty to fight for my father to the
last, and I should fight."
"Of course you would, and so should I," cried Harry, flushing. "As to
being frightened, well, I don't think we should be a bit. We should
feel that shrinky-shanky sensation which makes you shiver and feel hot
and cold and wish you were somewhere else, and want to run away, only
you wouldn't for the world. I believe everyone feels that at such
times--say if any one's drowning, and you don't want to jump in after
him, or when there's a tiger or a big snake; but I don't think that's
being frightened; that's only natural, because one would jump into the
water to save any fellow drowning, or go and do anything. It's only a
sort of hanging back before one begins. It can't be regular fright,
old chap, because, if it was, we should run, and that we couldn't do.
Now, that's real fright: we should be afraid to do that."
"You're a queer fellow, Hal," said Phra, smiling.
"Am I? Well, so are other English boys, for I suppose I'm like most of
them. I don't want to fight. I hate it. It's horrible, but I think I
shall not be afraid to fight; but I'm sure I should be afraid to run
away."
"I hope I should," said Phra thoughtfully, "and I don't want the
fighting to begin again; but this miserable waiting day after day for
aid to come is terrible. I say, do you think Adong will bring help?"
"Not now, I don't. I'm afraid the poor chap has been killed, or he
would have come back. He'd have made his way to us, the same as Sree
did. I say, I begin to feel as you do--wish it would all come to an
end."