THE WHITE ELEPHANT
It was the shock of the bullet rather than the seriousness of the wound
that had toppled Kathlyn into the river. In the confusion, the rattle
of musketry, the yelling of the panic-stricken pack coolies who had
fled helter-skelter for the jungle, the squealing of the elephants, she
had forgot to crouch low in the howdah. There had come a staggering
blow, after which sky and earth careened for a moment and became black;
then the chill of water and strangulation, and she found herself
struggling in the deepest part of the ford, a strange deadness in one
arm. She had no distinct recollection of what took place; her one
thought was to keep her head above water.
Instantly the firing ceased; on one side because there were no more
cartridges, on the other for fear of hitting the one person who had
made this pursuit necessary.
Kathlyn struggled between the elephant which carried Ramabai and
Pundita and the boat or barge which held the eager Umballa and his
soldiers. The mahout, terrorized, had slid off and taken to his heels
ingloriously. Thus, Ramabai could do nothing to aid Kathlyn. Nor
could the elephant ridden by the colonel and Bruce be managed.
Umballa was quick to see his advantage, and, laughing, he urged his men
toward the helpless girl. The colonel raised his rifle and aimed at
Umballa, but there was no report, only a click which to the frantic
man's ears sounded like the gates of hell closing in behind him.
"Forward!" shouted Umballa.
She was his again; he would have the pleasure of taking her from under
the very eyes of her father and lover. His star never faltered.
Bruce stood up in the howdah, ready to dive; but the colonel restrained
him.
"Don't waste your life! My God, we can't help her! Not a bullet in
either gun. God's curse on all these worthless stones men call
guns! . . . There, he's got her! Not a shell left! Kit! Kit!" The
colonel broke down and cried like a child. As for Bruce, hot irons
could not have wrung a tear from his eyes; but Kit, in the hands of
that black devil again!
"Colonel," said Bruce, "I'd going to get some cartridges."
He realized then that Kathlyn's future depended upon him alone. The
colonel was a broken man. So he struck the elephant, who lumbered
ashore. The moment Kathlyn was safe in the barge Umballa would
probably give orders to resume firing. He could do so now with
impunity.
The soldiers drew Kathlyn into the barge. Umballa saw that she was
wounded in the fleshy part of the arm. Quickly he snatched off the
turban of one of the soldiers, unwound it and began to bandage
Kathlyn's arm.
The man, for all his oriental craftiness, was still guileless enough to
expect some sign of gratitude from her; but; as he touched her she
shrank in loathing. His anger flamed and he flung her roughly into a
seat.
"Suffer, then, little fool!"
Meantime the colonel and Bruce dismounted and tried to stem the tide of
fleeing coolies; but it was no more effective than blowing against the
wind. They found, however, an abandoned pack containing cartridge
cases, and they filled their pockets, calling to Ramabai and Pundita to
follow them along the river in pursuit of Umballa's barge, which was
now being rapidly poled up-stream. They might be able to pick off
enough soldiers, sharpshooting, to make it impossible to man the barge.
They were both dead shots, and the least they could do would be to put
the fight on a basis of equality so far as numbers were concerned.
The colonel forgot all about how weak he was. The rage and despair in
his heart had once more given him a fictitious strength.
"The curse, the curse, always the curse!"
"Don't you believe that, Colonel. It is only misfortune. Now I'm
going to pot Umballa. That will simplify everything. Without a head
the soldiers will be without a cause, and they'll desert Kathlyn as
quickly as our coolies deserted us."
"Where is Ahmed?"
"Ahmed? I had forgot all about him! But we can't wait now. He'll
have to look out for himself. Hark!"
Squealing and trumpeting and thunderous crashing in the distance.
"Wild elephants!" cried the colonel, the old impulse wheeling him
round. But the younger man caught hold of his arm significantly.
The soldiers poled diligently, but against the stream, together with
the clumsiness of the barge, they could not make headway with any
degree of speed. It was not long before Bruce could see them. He
raised his rifle and let go; and in the boat Umballa felt his turban
stir mysteriously. The report which instantly followed was enough to
convince him that he in particular was being made a target. He
crouched behind Kathlyn, while two or three of the soldiers returned
the shot, aiming at the clump of scrub from which a film of pale blue
smoke issued. They waited for another shot, but none came.
The reason was this: the herd of wild elephants which Bruce and the
colonel had heard came charging almost directly toward them, smashing
young trees and trampling the tough underbrush. Some of them made for
the water directly in line with the passing boats. Kathlyn, keenly
alive to the fact that here was a chance, jumped overboard before
Umballa could reach out a staying hand.
To Kathlyn there was only death in the path of the elephants; to remain
on the barge was to face eventually that which was worse than death.
Her arm throbbed painfully, but in the desperate energy with which she
determined to take the chance she used it. Quite contrary to her
expectations, her leap was the best thing she could have done. Most of
the barges were upset and the great beasts were blundering across the
river between her and the barges.
Bruce witnessed Kathlyn's brave attempt and dashed into the water after
her. It took him but a moment to bring her to land, where her father
clasped her in his arms and broke down again.
"Dad, dad!" she whispered. "Don't you see our God is powerfulest? I
believed I was going to be trampled to death, and here I am, with you
once more."
They hurried back as fast as Kathlyn's weakness would permit to where
they had left their own elephants, doubting that they should find them,
considering that it was quite probable that they had joined their wild
brethren. But no; they were standing shoulder to shoulder, flapping
their ears and curling their trunks. So many years had they been
trained to hunt elephants that they did not seem to know what to do
without some one to guide them.
Bruce ordered one of them to kneel, doubtfully; but the big fellow
obeyed the command docilely, and the colonel and Bruce helped the
exhausted girl into the howdah. The colonel followed, while Bruce took
upon his own shoulders the duties of mahout. Pundita got into the
other howdah and Ramabai imitated Bruce. The elephants shuffled off,
away from the river. For the time being neither Bruce nor Ramabai gave
mind to the compass. To make pursuit impossible was the main business
just then.
Later Umballa, dulled and stupefied from his immersion, stood on the
shore, with but nine of the twenty soldiers he had brought with him.
Evidently, his star had faltered. Very well; he would send for the
other sister. She was the Colonel Sahib's daughter, and young; she
would be as wax in his hands. A passion remained in Umballa's heart,
but it was now the passion of revenge.
When he had recovered sufficiently he gave orders to one of the
soldiers to return to the city, to bring back at once servants,
elephants and all that would be required for a long pursuit. The
messenger was also to make known these preparations to the council, who
would undertake to forward the cable submitted to them. All these
things off his mind, Umballa sat down and shivered outwardly, while he
boiled within. He was implacable; he would blot out his enemy, kith
and kin. Colonel Hare should never dip his fingers into the filigree
basket--never while he, Durga Ram, lived.
Quite unknown, quite unsuspected by him, for all the activity of his
spies, a volcano was beginning to grumble under his feet. All tyrants,
the petty and the great, have heard it: the muttering of the oppressed.
Perhaps the fugitives had gone thirty miles when suddenly the jungle
ended abruptly and a desert opened up before them. Beyond stood a
purple line of rugged hills. Ramabai raised his hand, and the
elephants came to a halt.
"I believe I know where I am," said Ramabai. "Somewhere between us and
yonder hills is a walled city, belonging to Bala Khan, a Pathan who
sometimes styles himself as a rajah. He has a body of fierce fighting
men; and he lives unmolested for two reasons: looting would not be
worth while and his position is isolated and almost impregnable. Now,
if I am right, we shall find shelter there, for he was an old friend of
my father's and I might call him a friend of mine, since I sell sheep
for him occasionally."
"Bala Khan?" mused Bruce, reminiscently. "Isn't he the chap who has a
sacred white elephant?"
"It is the same," answered Ramabai. "We can reach there before
sundown. It would be wise to hasten, however, as this desert and those
hills are infested with lawless nomadic bands of masterless
men--brigands, you call them. They would cut the throat of a man for
the sake of his clothes."
"Let us go on," said the colonel. "I don't care where. I am dead for
want of food and sleep."
"And I, too," confessed Kathlyn; "My arm pains me badly."
[Illustration: My arm pains me badly.]
"My poor Kit!" murmured her father gloomily. "And all this because I
told you half a truth, because in play I tried to make a mystery out of
a few plain facts. I should have told you everything, warned you
against following in case I failed to turn up."
"I should have followed you just the same."
"Shall I rebind the arm?" asked Bruce, turning.
"No, thanks." She smiled down at him. "This bandage will serve till we
reach Bala Khan's."
"By the way, Colonel, is there a pair of binoculars in the howdah?"
"Yes. Do you want them?"
"No. Just to be sure they were there. We may have occasion to use
them later, in case this place Ramabai is taking us to should turn out
hostile. I like to know what is going on ahead of me."
"Poor Kit!" reiterated the colonel.
"Never mind, dad; you meant it all for the best; and you must not let
our present misfortunes convince you that that yogi or guru cast a
spell of evil over you. That is all nonsense."
"My child, this is the Orient, Asia. Things happen here that are
outside the pale of logic. Bruce, am I not right?"
"I have seen many unbelievable things here in India," replied Bruce
reluctantly. "Think of yesterday and to-day, Miss Kathlyn."
"Yes; but the curse of a priest who believes in different gods, who
kotows before a painted idol! I just simply can't believe anything so
foolish. Dad, put the thought out of your mind for my sake. So long
as we have the will to try we'll see California again before many
weeks."
"Do you feel like that?" curiously.
"In my soul, dad, in my soul." She stared dreamily toward the
empurpling hills. "I can't explain, but that's the way I feel. Some
day we shall be free again, reenter the life we have known and all this
will resolve itself into an idle dream. Ahmed has said it."
"No, he is alive somewhere back there."
Bruce turned to look at her again, but Kathlyn was still gazing at the
hills without seeing them.
"A white elephant," mused the colonel. "Do you know it for a fact that
this Bala Khan has a white elephant?" he called across to Ramabai.
"I have never seen it Sahib. It is what they say."
"A pair of mottled ears is the nearest I ever came to seeing a white
elephant, and I've hunted them for thirty years, here, in Ceylon, in
Burma, in Africa. There was once a tiger near Madras that hadn't any
stripes. The natives would not permit him to be killed because they
held that, being unique, he was sacred. A sacred white elephant! Poor
simple-minded fools!" The colonel felt in his pockets, then dropped
his hands dispiritedly. How long since he had tasted tobacco? "Bruce,
have you got a cheroot in your pocket? I think a smoke would brace me
up."
Bruce laughed and passed up a broken cigar, which the colonel lighted
carefully. The weariness seemed to go out of his face magically.
"This Bala Khan should be Mohammedan," said Bruce. "The Pathan
despises the Hindu."
"There are Hindus in yonder city; quite as many," said Ramabai, "as
there are Mohammedans. Even the Pathan expects that which he can not
understand."
"Isn't that the wall behind that sand-hill? Let me have the glasses a
moment. Colonel. . . . H'm! The walled city, all right. Some people
moving about outside. Dancers, I should say."
"Professional," explained Ramabai.
"Nothing religious, then? By George!"
"What is it?" asked the colonel.
"Take a look. There's an elephant being led into the city gates."
The colonel peered eagerly through the glasses.
"The sun is shining on him. . . . No! he is . . . white! A white
elephant! I'd give ten thousand this minute to own it. There, it's
entered the gate. Well, well, well! And I've lived to see it! Poor
old Barnum, to have carried around a tinted pachyderm! He's white as
any elephant flesh could be. Those dancing chaps are going in, too.
What caste would those dancers be, Ramabai?"
"Pariahs, quite possibly; probably brigands."
The rim of the sun was sinking rapidly as Bruce drew his elephant to a
halt before the gate of the white walled city. The guard ran out,
barring the way.
"I am Ramabai, a friend of Bala Khan. I am come to pay him a visit.
Direct me to his house or his palace."
The authority in Ramabai's voice was sufficient for the guard, who gave
the necessary directions. The party continued on into town. It was an
odd place for a walled city. There wasn't a tree about, not a sign of
boscage, except some miles away where the hills began to slope upward.
Bruce wondered what the inhabitants fed upon. It was more like an
Egyptian village than anything he had ever seen in India. Bruce asked
for his rifle, which he laid carelessly in the crook of his arm. One
never could tell.
Presently they came upon a group in the center of which were the
dancers at their vocations. They ceased their mad whirlings at the
sight of the two elephants. There were nine of these men, fierce of
eye and built muscularly. No effeminate Hindus here, mused Bruce, who
did not like the looks of them at all. The surrounding natives stared
with variant emotions. Many of them had never seen a white man before.
Their gaze centered upon the colonel. Kathlyn was almost as dark as
Pundita, and as for Bruce, only his European dress distinguished him
from Ramabai, for there was scarcely a shade difference in color. But
the colonel, having been weeks in prison, was as pale as alabaster and
his hair shone like threads of silver.
On through the narrow streets, sometimes the sides of the elephants
scraping against the mud and plaster of the buildings, and one could
easily look into the second stories. No one seemed hostile; only a
natural curiosity was evinced by those standing in doorways or leaning
out of windows.
The house of Bala Khan was not exactly a palace, but it was of
respectable size. A high wall surrounded the compound. There was a
gateway, open at this moment. A servant ran out and loudly demanded
what was wanted.
"Say to your master, Bala Khan, that Ramabai, son of Maaho Singh, his
old friend, awaits with friendly greetings."
"Kit," whispered Kathlyn's father, "this chap Ramabai wouldn't make a
bad king. And look!" excitedly. "There's the sacred elephant, and if
he isn't white, I'll eat my hat!"
Kathlyn sighed gratefully. That her father could be interested in
anything was a good sign for the future. A few days' rest and
wholesome food would put him half-way on his legs. Her own vitality
was an inheritance from her father. The male line of the family was
well known for its recuperative powers.
The servant ran back into the compound and spoke to a dignified man,
who proved to be a high caste Brahmin, having in his charge the care of
the white elephant. He disappeared and returned soon with the Khan.
The pleasant face, though proudly molded, together with the simplicity
of his appearance, conveyed to Kathlyn the fact that here was a man to
be trusted, at least for the present. He greeted Ramabai cordially,
struck his hands and ordered out the servants to take charge of what
luggage there was and to lead away the elephants to be fed and watered.
Courteously he asked Kathlyn how she had become injured and Ramabai
acted as interpreter. He then ushered them into his house, spread rugs
and cushions for them to sit upon and mildly inquired what had brought
the son of his old friend so far.
Colonel Hare spoke several dialects fluently and briefly told (between
sips of tea and bites of cakes which had been set out for the guests)
his experiences in Allaha.
"The rulers of Allaha," observed Bala Khan, "have always been half mad."
Ramabai nodded in agreement.
"You should never have gone back," went on Bala Khan, lighting a
cigarette and eying Kathlyn with wonder and interest. "Ah, that Durga
Ram whom they call Umballa! I have heard of him, but fortunately for
him our paths have not crossed in any way." He blew a cloud of smoke
above his head. "Well, he has shown wisdom in avoiding me. In front
of me, a desert; behind me, verdant hills and many sheep and cattle,
well guarded. I am too far away for them to bother. Sometimes the
desert thieves cause a flurry, but that is nothing. It keeps the
tulwar from growing rusty," patting the great knife at his side.
Bala Khan was muscular; his lean hands denoted work; his clear eyes,
the sun and the wind. He was in height and building something after
the pattern of the colonel.
"And to force a crown on me!" said the colonel.
"You could have given it to this Umballa."
"That I would not do."
"In each case you showed forethought. The Durga Ram, when he had you
where he wanted you----" Bala Khan drew a finger suggestively across
his throat. "Ramabai, son of my friend, I will have many sheep for you
this autumn. What is it to me whether you Hindus eat beef or not?" He
laughed.
"I am not a Hindu in that sense," returned Ramabai. "I have but one
God."
"And Mahomet is His prophet," said the host piously.
"Perhaps. I am a Christian."
Bruce stirred uneasily, but his alarm was without foundation.
"A Christian," mused Bala Khan. "Ah, well; have no fear of me. There
is no Mahdi in these hills. There is but one road to Paradise and
argument does not help us on the way."
Lowly and quickly Pundita translated for Kathlyn so that she might miss
none of the conversation.
"The Colonel Sahib looks worn."
"I am."
"Now, in my travels I have been to Bombay, and there I dressed like you
white people. I have the complete. Perhaps the Colonel Sahib would be
pleased to see if he can wear it? And also the use of my barber?"
"Bala Khan," cried the colonel, "you are a prince indeed! It will
tonic me like medicine. Thanks, thanks!"
"It is well."
"You have a wonderful elephant out there in the compound," said Bruce,
who had remained a silent listener to all that had gone before.
"Ah! That is a curiosity. He is worshiped by Hindus and reverenced by
my own people. I am his official custodian. There is a saying among
the people that ill will befall me should I lose, sell, or permit him
to be stolen."
"And many have offered to buy?" inquired the colonel.
"Many."
When the colonel appeared at supper, simple but substantial, he was a
new man. He stood up straight, though his back still smarted from the
lash. Kathlyn was delighted at the change.
After the meal was over and coffee was drunk, the Khan conducted his
guests to his armory, of which he was very proud. Guns of all
descriptions lined the walls. Some of them Bruce would have liked to
own, to decorate the walls of his own armory, thousands of miles away.
The colonel whispered a forgotten prayer as, later, he laid down his
weary aching limbs upon the rope bed. Almost immediately he sank into
slumber as deep and silent as the sea.
Kathlyn and Bruce, however, went up to the hanging gardens and remained
there till nine, marveling over the beauty of the night. The Pathan
city lay under their gaze with a likeness to one of those magic cities
one reads about in the chronicles of Sindbad the Sailor. But they
spoke no word of love. When alone with this remarkable young woman,
Bruce found himself invariably tongue-tied.
At the same hour, less than fifty miles away, Umballa stood before the
opening of his elaborate tent, erected at sundown by the river's brink,
and scowled at the moon. He saw no beauty in the translucent sky, in
the silvery paleness of the world below. He wanted revenge, and the
word hissed in his brain as a viper hisses in the dark of its cave.
Dung fires twinkled and soldiers lounged about them, smoking and
gossiping. They had been given an earnest against their long
delinquent wages; and they were in a happy frame of mind. Their dead
comrades were dead and mourning was for widows; but for them would be
the pleasures of swift reprisals. The fugitives had gone toward the
desert, and in that bleak stretch of treeless land it would not be
difficult to find them, once they started in pursuit.
Midnight.
In the compound the moonlight lay upon everything; upon the fat sides
and back of the sacred white elephant, upon the three low caste
keepers, now free of the vigilant eye of their Brahmin chief. The
gates were barred and closed; all inside the house of Bala Khan were
asleep. Far away a sentry dozed on his rifle, on the wall. The three
keepers whispered and chuckled among themselves.
"Who will know?" said one.
"The moon will not speak," said another.
"Then, let us go and smoke."
The three approached the elephant. A bit of gymnastics and one of them
was boosted to the back of the elephant to whom this episode was more
or less familiar. Another followed; the third was pulled up, and from
the elephant's back they made the top of the wall and disappeared down
into the street. Here they paused cautiously, for two guards always
patrolled the front of the compound during the night. Presently the
three truants stole away toward the bazaars which in this desert town
occupied but a single street. Down they went into a cellar way and the
guru's curse stalked beside them. For opium is the handmaiden of all
curses.
Perhaps twenty minutes later slight sounds came from the front of the
compound wall. A rifle barrel clattered upon the cobbles. Then, over
the wall, near the elephant, a head appeared, then a body. This was
repeated four times, and four light-footed nomads of the desert lowered
themselves into the compound. They ran quickly to the gate and
noiselessly unbarred it. Outside were five more desert nomads,
gathered about the insensible bodies of the sentries.
These nine men were the dancers who had entered the town in advance of
Kathlyn. For weeks they had lain in wait for this moment. They had
spied upon the three low caste keepers and upon learning of their
nocturnal junkets into the opium den had cast the die this night.
With the utmost caution they approached the sacred elephant, took off
his chains and led him from the compound. Immediately six of the
marauders trotted far ahead toward the gate they knew to be the least
guarded. The sacred elephant, passing through the streets, attended by
three men, aroused no suspicions in any straggler who saw. So remote
was the walled city, so seemingly impregnable, and so little interfered
with that it was only human that its guardians should eventually grow
careless.
When the keepers, straggling under the fumes of the drug, returned near
daybreak, first to find the gate open, second to find their sacred
charge gone, they fled in terror; for it would be death, lingering and
painful, for them to stay and explain how and why they had left their
post.
The wild and lawless brigands knew exactly what they were about. There
were several agents of European and American circuses after this white
elephant, and as it could not be purchased there was no reason why it
could not be stolen.
When the Brahmin arrived at sunrise to find his vocation gone he set up
a wailing which awakened the household. The Khan was furious and
ordered a general search. He vowed death to the foul hands which had
done this sacrilege!
Kathlyn and the others were genuinely sorry when they heard the news.
They were in the armory when the Khan announced what had taken place.
Said he: "Come, you are all skilled hunters. Find me my elephant and
these guns and newer and surer ones shall protect you from Durga Ram,
should he take it into his head to come this way."
The colonel, Bruce and Ramabai set off at once. After they had gone a
camel rider entered the compound and sought audience with Bala Khan.
Kathlyn and Pundita were in the compound at the time and the former was
greatly interested in the saddlebags, attached to one of which was a
binocular case. Kathlyn could not resist the inclination to open this
case. It contained an exceptionally fine pair of glasses, such as were
used in that day in the British army. No doubt they were a part of
some loot.
Suddenly an idea came to her. She asked permission (through Pundita)
to ride the camel outside the town. After some argument the servant in
charge consented.
Upon a knoll outside the city--a hillock of sand three or four hundred
feet in height--Kathlyn tried the glasses. From this promontory she
had a range of something like fifteen to twenty miles. Back and forth
her gaze roved and suddenly paused.