DHONDARAM'S EXCUSE.
What might have happened to Matt had not the canvasmen arrived while he
was pluckily facing and prodding Rajah, it is hard to say. Certainly
the young motorist's brave stand held the elephant at bay and saved the
aëroplane. Before Rajah could make up his mind to strike Matt down and
trample over him to the _Comet_, the frenzied brute was assailed on all
sides and, under the angry direction of Boss Burton, was beaten into a
state of sullen obedience.
"Where's that confounded Hindoo?" roared Burton, as two of the other
elephants hauled Rajah off toward the animal tent.
McGlory, in his shirt sleeves, pushed through the crowd and up to the
aëroplane in time to hear the question.
"Dhondaram is up there in the calliope tent," said the cowboy;
"leastways he was a while ago. When Ping and I dropped into the lean-to
to change our togs, the Hindoo was stretched on the floor, groaning
like a man who was having a fit. He didn't seem to be so terribly bad
off, in spite of the way he was taking on, and I didn't have much time
to strip off my puncher clothes and get back here. Just as I got into
my regular make-up, and before I could take another look at Dhondaram,
a fellow ran by and yelled that Rajah was runnin' wild again and
headin' for the _Comet_. That was enough for me, and I hustled hot
foot for here. I saw you, pard," and here the cowboy turned to Matt,
"standing off that big brute with a tent stake. Speak to me about that!
Say, I'm a Piegan if I ever thought you'd get out of that mix with your
scalp."
"It was a fool thing you did, King," growled Burton, very much worked
up over the way events had fallen out. "You had about one chance in a
hundred of getting out alive. What did you do it for?"
"There wasn't any other chance of saving the _Comet_," answered Matt,
a bit shaken himself now that it was all over and he realized how close
a call he had had.
"Your life, I suppose, isn't worth anything in comparison with the
value of this aëroplane," scoffed Burton.
"That sort of talk is foolish, Burton," said Matt. "I remembered what
Dhondaram had said about not being a coward around Rajah, so I jumped
in and got between the elephant and the machine. But there's no use
talking now. The aëroplane has been saved, and there's nothing much the
matter with me."
"There _is_ some use of talking," snapped Burton. "Here comes
Dhondaram, with Ping. Now we can find out how Rajah got away. Dhondaram
has starred himself--I don't think. If that's the best he can do, on
his first try-out, I might as well give him the sack right here."
The Hindoo and the Chinese boy were coming through the excited crowd
toward the aëroplane. Dhondaram staggered as he walked, and there was a
wild look in his face.
"What's the matter with you, Dhondaram?" demanded Burton sharply, as
the eyes of the little group near the _Comet_ turned curiously on the
Hindoo.
"I was sick, sahib," mumbled the brown man, laying both hands on the
pit of his stomach and rolling his eyes upward.
"Sick?" echoed Burton incredulously. "It must have come on you mighty
sudden."
"It did, sahib. I came in from the parade, then all at once I could
not see and grew weak--_jee_, yes, so weak I could not stay on Rajah's
back, but fell to the ground and lay there for a moment, not knowing
one thing. When I came to myself I was in a tent, and the _feringhi_
sahib,"--he pointed to McGlory--"and the Chinaman sahib were getting
clear of their clothes. When I get enough strength, I come here. _Such
bhat_, sahib. What I say is true."
"You had Rajah properly tamed," went on Burton; "I never saw him act
better in the parade than he did this morning. What caused him to make
such a dead set at this flying machine the moment you dropped off his
back?"
"Who can say, sahib?" asked Dhondaram humbly. "He not like the machine,
it may be. Has he a cause to dislike the bird-wagon? The elephant,
Burton Sahib, never forgets. A hundred years is to him as a day when it
comes to remembering."
One of the canvasmen stepped up and asserted that he had seen Dhondaram
drop off Rajah's back and then get up and reel away. Thereupon the
canvasman, expecting trouble, called for some of the other animal
trainers, and they picked up the first things they could lay hands on
and started after the charging elephant.
This was corroborative of the Hindoo's story, as was also the statement
made by McGlory.
"Are you subject to attacks like that?" queried Burton, with a
distrustful look at the new _mahout_.
"Not at all, sahib," replied the Hindoo glibly. "It was the first
stroke of the kind I have ever suffered. By Krishna, I hope and believe
it will be the last."
"Well," remarked Burton grimly, "if you ever have another, you'll be
cut out of this aggregation of the world's wonders. Now hike for the
menagerie and do your best to curry Rajah down again."
Without a word Dhondaram wheeled and vanished into the crowd. McGlory
turned, caught Matt's arm, and pulled him off to one side.
"What's your notion about this, pard?" he asked.
"I haven't any," said Matt. "It's something to think over, Joe, and not
form any snap judgments."
The cowboy scowled.
"These Hindoos are all of the same breed, I reckon," he muttered, "and
you know what sort of fellows Ben Ali and Aurung Zeeb turned out to be."
Matt nodded thoughtfully.
"I don't believe one of the turban-tops is to be depended on,"
proceeded McGlory. "They're all underhand and sly, and not one of 'em,
as I size it up, but would stand up a stage or snake a game of faro if
he got the chance."
"There you go with your snap judgment," laughed Matt.
"It's right off the reel, anyhow," continued McGlory earnestly. "That
Rajah critter was as meek as pie all through the parade. It don't seem
reasonable that he'd take such a dead set at the _Comet_ all at once.
And, as for Dhondaram getting an attack of cramps, he stood about as
much chance of that as of bein' struck by lightning."
Matt was silent.
"Blamed queer," continued McGlory, "that Ben Ali and Aurung Zeeb should
drop out, and then, two days after, this other Hindoo should show up.
For a happenchance, pard, it's too far-fetched. There's something
rotten about it."
"What had Dhondaram got against the _Comet_?" asked Matt.
"I pass that."
"You're hinting, in a pretty broad way, Joe, that the new _mahout_
deliberately set Rajah on to smash the aëroplane."
"Then I won't hint, pard, but will come out flat-footed. That's just
what I think he did."
"Why?"
"You've got to have a reason for everything? Well, I haven't any reason
for that, but I think it, all the same."
"Ping!" called Matt.
The Chinese boy was standing by the front of the aëroplane, patting
the forward rudders affectionately, looking at the machine with a fond
eye, and apparently exulting over the fact that it had been saved from
destruction.
At Matt's call, the boy whirled around and ran toward his two friends.
"Whatee want, Motol Matt?" he asked.
"You came here with the Hindoo," said Matt. "How was that?"
"My follow Hindoo flom tent. Him no gettee sick. My savvy. When McGloly
makee lun flom tent, Hindoo jump to feet chop-chop, feel plenty fine.
Him makee play 'possum. Whoosh! When him come, my come, too."
"Talk about that!" exclaimed McGlory. "Worse, and more of it. There's a
hen on of some kind, pard."
"Ping," proceeded Matt, "I've got a job for you."
"Bully!" cried the Chinaman delightedly.
"What I want you to do," said Matt, "is to watch Dhondaram. Don't let
him see you at it, mind, but just dodge around, keep tab on him, and
don't let him suspect what you're doing."
"Hoop-ala!" said Ping, delighted at having such a piece of work come
his way.
"Think you can attend to that?"
"Can do! You bettee. My heap smarter than Hindoo. You watchee, find um
out."
"All right, then. Away with you."
Ping darted off toward the animal tent. At that moment Burton hurried
up.
"Better get busy and make your ascent, Matt," said Burton. "The crowd's
all worked up about that elephant business, and the quickest way to get
the people's minds off it is by giving them something else to watch and
talk about."
"I'll start at once," replied Matt, taking his seat in his accustomed
place on the lower plane. "Let her flicker, Joe."
The king of the motor boys "turned over" the engine, switched the power
into the bicycle wheels, and the _Comet_, pushed by McGlory and half a
dozen canvasmen, raced along the hard ground for a running start.