THE PANTHAY WOOD-CUTTERS.
It was within an hour or two of dark, and Jack, faint with hunger and
the strange and exhausting experience through which he had gone that
day, was hanging listlessly in his bonds. The elephants had gathered
in an open stretch at the foot of a deep ravine, and all was very
quiet. The pad-elephant stood with his trunk gently swinging, his huge
ears slowly flapping; he had eaten and drunk, and now he was taking a
rest.
Suddenly into the silence of the narrow valley there fell the sound of
blows. Thud--thud--thud. A pause. Thud--thud--thud, again and again.
Jack started and listened eagerly. There was a ring about the sound
which told him what it was.
"It's the sound of an axe on a tree," cried Jack to himself, and he
knew that other human beings were in the neighbourhood. He collected
all his breath and gave a loud shout. Again and again he shouted. The
noise on the hill-side far above was now stilled, and once more Jack
roared at the top of his voice.
At the next moment his outcries were drowned in the wild trumpeting
of the elephants. The human notes had disturbed them, and they
trumpeted shrilly and moved uneasily away from the neighbourhood of
the pad-elephant. Then the wild herd set off at a trot, went a mile or
more up the ravine, and came to a halt near another feeding-place, a
clump of young bamboos. The tame elephant with its burden had followed
steadily, and now Jack shouted no more. He feared lest his cries
should disturb the herd so much that the wild creatures should take
flight, and run a great distance. If they did so, the pad-elephant
would be sure to follow them, and thus very possibly carry Jack
completely out of reach of the human beings, whoever they were, that
he had heard at work among the trees high up on the bank of the
ravine.
So now Jack was silent, but he looked about eagerly on every hand for
some sign of human life. If the people had heard his cries, surely
they would come to see who called for help in such a place. His
elephant was now quietly feeding with the rest, and the last rays of
the sun were shining through a gap in the hills straight into the
hollow where the elephants were gathered.
Looking eagerly back on the track the herd had followed, Jack saw
something moving in the wild plum-bushes about three hundred yards
away. He looked closer and saw that it was a man, a native. His heart
leaped for joy. Whether friends or enemies, perhaps he was about to be
loosed from his dreadful position. Now he saw a second man, and the
two dark figures, both naked save for a waist-cloth, crept slowly
towards him under cover of the bushes.
They were a couple of Panthay wood-cutters, felling teak trees on the
edge of the ravine. At present the ravine was dry, but in the rainy
season an ample flood of water roared along the hollow, a flood which
would carry the teak logs down to the big river below. They had heard
Jack's cries, and, wondering at the strange sound, had followed up in
rear of the flying elephants.
Their surprise was immense when they saw a white sahib in the howdah
on the elephant's back. But in this part of the country, where white
men very rarely came, a white face was regarded with the deepest
reverence, and the simple, harmless Panthays at once set about the
task of relieving the sahib who seemed unable to rise in his carriage.
One of them disappeared at once into the jungle, one remained in the
bushes.
Jack saw that they were engaged upon some plan, and hoping that it
meant his deliverance, he remained silent, and watched eagerly for
what was about to happen.
Within ten minutes he saw one of the woodmen swarming up a tree some
distance ahead, a tree growing beside the well-trodden path which wild
beasts had made along the foot of the ravine. Then his companion
showed himself among the bushes below and uttered a peculiar cry. The
wild elephants stopped feeding at once. Always sensitive to the
presence of man, which means danger, they gathered uneasily in a
group. Then, following the lead of an immense bull, the patriarch of
the herd, they lumbered along the path up the ravine and away from the
wood-cutter who had shown himself.
Jack saw, to his immense relief and delight, that his elephant would
pass directly below the branch where the second Panthay was now
perched. As the pad-elephant jogged up, closing the file of the
retreating herd, the native, swinging himself from the bough, dropped
with the greatest ease and certainty into the howdah.
For a moment the Panthay, a short, strong, powerful man, looked upon
Jack and his bonds with great surprise. Then he thrust forward the
head of his axe, which he had carried with him all the time, and laid
the keen edge against the cords which bound Jack to the howdah. In a
trice Jack was free. He flung his arms up thankfully, but dropped them
again with a groan. They were so stiff that all movement was painful.
He thanked the Panthay again and again, and patted his bare, smooth
shoulder, and the native grinned and bowed before him. Then the
wood-cutter pointed to the ground, and Jack nodded. He saw that the
man wished him to drop from the howdah and leave the elephant. Jack
was perfectly willing. It was plain that the pad-elephant meant to
stick to his new friends and follow them wherever they roved.
The Panthay slipped down the right flank of the elephant and dropped
to his feet like a cat. Jack was wretchedly stiff, but he also climbed
over the side of the carriage which had been his prison, and let
himself slide over the elephant's tail.
"I shall stand the least chance of being trodden on that way," thought
Jack. He dropped to the ground all right, for the pad-elephant took
not the least notice of their movements. But as for keeping his feet,
that was impossible. He rolled to the earth, for his ankles were even
more numbed than his wrists.
At this instant the second Panthay ran up. The natives seemed to
understand at once what was wrong, for both began to rub Jack's ankles
and wrists briskly. Jack had to set his teeth to keep back a cry of
pain. After the long numbing confinement, it was pure agony when the
blood began to move freely once more, but he grinned and bore it, and
soon began to feel better for the treatment.
When he could stand up and walk a little, the Panthays beckoned to him
to accompany them, and they went down the ravine, following the track
used by the wild inhabitants of the place. The dusk was falling over
the jungle when they reached the camp of the Panthays, a deep cave in
the side of the ravine, where a few simple cooking-pots and a small
store of rice furnished all the woodmen needed.
By signs Jack was invited to sit down on a big heap of dried grass at
the side of the cave, and one of the men swiftly built a fire and put
on a pot of rice to cook. Soon the simple meal was ready. The
cooking-pot was swung from the fire, and the rice was flavoured with
salt and other condiments; each of the latter articles was contained
in a small neat cylinder of bamboo, and packed away again when done
with in the basket which was the only baggage of the teak-cutters.
Jack was as hungry as a wolf, and he ate heartily of the food which
his new friends offered to him. They were extremely respectful, called
him _phaya_, my lord, the only word of their speech which he could
make out, and did not touch a single grain of rice until he had
finished.
While they ate, Jack rested on the soft, dried grass, and went through
his pockets to see where he stood. Somewhat to his surprise, Jack
found that his captors had relieved him of nothing save his weapons.
His money-belt round his waist, the contents of his pockets, his
watch, everything had been left untouched.
"No," thought Jack, "I don't know what their game was, but it was a
lot bigger thing than just collaring what I had about me. However,
it's lucky my money's left. It's bound to be useful even in the
jungle. If I can only get these fellows to lead me to a village, I can
find a guide to put me on the road towards joining Buck and Jim
again."
The thought of Buck and Jim turned Jack's thoughts towards them, and
their surprise and consternation when they found that he was missing.
"What will they do, I wonder," thought Jack. "They'll never in the
world be able to discover what's become of me. I must try and hit a
line back towards them as soon as possible."
His eyes now turned on the Panthays, busily devouring the last of
their rice.
"How can I talk to these chaps?" thought Jack. "I'll give them a tip.
They've done me a first-rate good turn. Perhaps they'll be willing to
do more if they see there's something to be got by it."
He drew a handful of rupees from his belt, and gave them five each.
The woodmen stared in astonishment at so much wealth, fingering the
big silver coins with childlike wonder and delight. Then they bent
before Jack, and made him at least a score of deep obeisances, and
poured forth floods of thanks. Jack did not understand their words,
but their movements told all they wished to convey.
Each tucked his new-gained riches in his waist-cloth, and then they
busied themselves in making Jack comfortable for the night. He was
soon satisfied. He was far too tired to be very critical of his
sleeping quarters. As a matter of fact, they were excellent. The cave
was dry and warm, and the Panthays made up for him a big heap of soft
dried grass.
The thought of sleep made Jack's eyes drop to of themselves. In a
couple of minutes after he stretched himself on the couch of grass, he
was deep in slumber.