ENOLA FOUND.
Onrai had seen Enola slip and fall, and then carried away from him, with
the greatest anguish. He stood for a moment gazing at the retreating
figure, and saw the noble elephant grasp her. He now thought her safe
and started toward her, but the storm caught him in its folds and he was
also being hurried before it. But the attendants had been watching him
and Enola from the entrance, and seeing him hurried on by the storm,
they formed a line by clasping hands, and throwing this human barrier
across the terrace they prevented the King from being blown further by
the storm, and before he could realize it, he was hurried into the villa
and was standing among his friends and attendants. The action had been
so quick that he was at first bewildered, but the truth having suddenly
dawned upon him, he made a rush for the door.
“Back, man,” said Mr. Bruce, throwing himself across his path. “What
would you do? Do you not know that it is sure death to venture forth in
this storm?”
Onrai stopped and looked at Mr. Bruce almost scornfully, then said:
“And would you let Enola perish?”
“No, not if the giving of my life would save hers,” said Mr. Bruce, “but
to throw myself into that howling vortex, would mean instant death, and
in no way could I help Enola. We must wait until the storm abates and
then look for our friend. She has the protection of the only living
thing which can help her now, her good friend, Gip. God grant that his
powerful strength may prove mightier than the power of the storm,” and
as he finished speaking, Mr. Bruce raised his hand to his eye and
brushed away a tear.
Onrai turned away and paced the long hall like a caged lion, his hands
crossed behind his back, and his body slightly bent forward, as if ready
to spring through the open entrance and run, as soon as the elements
would permit. Harry, who was also crazed with pain because of the fate
of Enola, was also on the alert to give Onrai a race in his rush to
rescue his friend.
The storm grew fiercer each moment and the noise more fearful. Mr.
Graham stepped up to Mr. Bruce and with a white face, said, “No human
being could possibly live in that storm; it is fearful.”
“Yes, the most terrible I have ever seen,” said Mr. Bruce. “But let us
hope that in some way Enola has reached safety.”
“If I could only hope; but I cannot, that storm would kill every hope,”
said Mr. Graham.
“Enola was not in the heart of the storm,” said Mr. Bruce. “She was not
carried into the centre of that seething, swirling tornado. She was only
in the outer edge, and maybe the elephant was sagacious enough to work
its way out of danger. Let us hope so at least.”
But hope seemed futile when they looked into that fearful on-rushing
storm.
“Look,” said Mr. Bruce. They all turn toward the door. The elephants had
gathered beneath the trees in one corner of the garden, and here,
bunched together they had resisted the storm, but as Mr. Bruce spoke,
the storm had reached the height of its fury, and the elephants no
longer being able to withstand its power had been blown forward, some of
them falling and the others tumbling over them. Those that were able to
keep their feet had been rushed forward with such force, that in
striking the trees they were crushed and badly wounded; those that were
left prone on the ground were rolling over and over in their efforts to
regain their feet, the wind blowing them over again before they could
stand erect.
Most of the zebras had run to the stables when they actually realized
their danger, but others, which had remained to graze the fresh grass
until too late, had been drawn into the circling, whirling mass and
hurried on.
Onrai was still pacing the floor, almost crazed with the thought that
Enola was in fearful peril and he unable to help her. Frequently he
would walk to the door and clasping his hands, cry in an agonized voice:
“Will it never cease?” It was now three hours after midnight and the
fierce winds had slackened, and the storm seemed broken. All were
watching it now with an eager look, praying for its speedy death. The
attendants went into the stables, and in a little while brought zebras
to the terrace, and Onrai with his guests and twenty attendants started
in search of Enola. But the night was still very dark and the torches
helped them but little. Every foot of ground was gone over carefully.
They did not keep in the avenue, but to the right, or in a direct line
with that taken by Gip as he left the garden.
Several elephants were lying about the garden or in the surrounding
fields, dead or too badly disabled to work. In the clear light of day
Gip could have been easily distinguished from any of these, but in the
darkness all looked alike, and each prostrate form was examined
carefully, and in some cases ropes were thrown about the legs and the
elephant turned over, the party thinking that Enola might possibly be
lying crushed beneath it. But none of these proved to be Gip, and the
party moved slowly on.
“I feel hopeful that the elephant with Enola has escaped,” said Mr.
Bruce to Onrai, as they rode along.
“Oh, I hope so,” answered Onrai, “but it was fearful,” and he shuddered.
“But tell me, Onrai, when you have such storms as these, are many of
your people killed?” asked Mr. Bruce.
“We have never before had such a storm, never during my life. We have
some storms in this season, but never like this, and death has never
resulted. The death and ruin which I have seen to-night appalls me.
Never before have I, or any of my race, I believe, experienced such
sensations as these fearful sights bring forth. I cannot understand why
this should be. That it is a visitation of our God, I know; but why?
That the punishment is just I cannot doubt; but for what is this
punishment? I or my people have sinned, but I know not what this sin is,
unless——” and Onrai’s face turned ghastly pale in the glare of the
torches.
“Unless what, Onrai?” asked Mr. Bruce.
“Unless it be in a way of which I cannot tell you,” said Onrai, “or,
unless my people have failed, in my absence, to carry out certain rites
preparatory to the Day of Resis, which must not be neglected.”
Mr. Bruce looked at him for a moment with the intention of asking him
something further regarding this strange day, but something kept him
from doing so.
The dawn was breaking and it seemed that these hours had been spent in a
fruitless search. But so careful had been the search, that all felt
assured that Enola had not been passed. They had covered but few miles,
but in this space the whole width of the storm’s track had been
carefully looked over.
“I cannot see how the elephant could have held out sufficiently long to
reach this distance,” said Mr. Graham to Mr. Bruce, “and I think that it
is convincing proof, that the beast beat his way out of the trail of the
storm and took a circuitous route back to the villa.”
“If that was so,” answered Mr. Bruce, “he should have reached the villa
before we departed, or else we would have met him on the way.”
“No, I think that we will yet find both the elephant and Enola safe,”
said Harry, who then joined them, but probably too exhausted to return,
and awaiting assistance. “See there,” and as he spoke all looked in the
direction of the avenue and saw a party of natives, headed by Sedai,
approaching.
“They are coming towards us,” said Onrai. “Let us meet them.”
They started towards the approaching party, Onrai in the lead. He turned
his zebra to one side to go around a pile of debris, when, upon reaching
the far side of this, he pulled up his zebra so quickly, that it nearly
dismounted him. His eyes were bulging from their sockets and a groan
left his lips; he seemed paralyzed, so rigid had he grown. The rest of
the party had now come up, and also Sedai and his followers, and all
looked in the direction in which was Onrai, and there, half hidden by
the debris and great body of the elephant, lay Enola, her robe almost
torn from her body and her face and hands black and bleeding.