elephants again—followed by something more awful.

there came a rainy day at last at kinlossie house. such days will come at times in human experience, both in metaphor and fact. at present we state a fact.

“it will bring up the fush,” was roderick’s remark, as he paused in the operation of cleaning harness to look through the stable door on the landscape; “an’ that wull please maister macrummle.”

“it will pe good for the gress too, an’ that will please muss mully,” said donald, now permanently appointed to the stables.

“h’m! she wull pe carin’ less for the gress, poy, than she wass used to do,” returned the groom. “it iss my opeenion that they wull pe all wantin’ to co away sooth pefore long.”

we refer to the above opinions because they were shared by the party assembled in barret’s room, which was still retained as a snuggery, although its occupant was fully restored to normal health and vigour.

“you’ll be sure to get ‘that salmon’ next time you try, after all this rain, macrummle,” said mabberly. “at least, i hope you will before we leave.”

“ay, and you must have another try with the repeater on the eagle cliff, mac. it would never do to leave a lone widdy, as quin calls it, after murdering the husband.”

“perhaps i may have another day there,” answered the old gentleman, with a pleased smile; for although they roasted him a good deal for mistaking an eagle for a raven, and only gave him credit for a “fluke,” it was evident that he congratulated himself not a little on his achievement.

“archie is having an awful time skinning and stuffing it,” said eddie, who sat by the window dressing trout flies.

junkie, who was occupied at another window, mending the top of his rod, remarked that nothing seemed to give archie so much pleasure as skinning and stuffing something. “he’s always doing it,” said the youngster. “whatever happens to die, from a tom-cat to a tom-tit, he gets hold of. i do believe if he was to die, he would try to skin and stuff himself!”

at that moment archie entered the room.

“i’ve got it nearly done now,” he said, with a pleased expression, while he rubbed his not-over-clean hands. “i’ll set him up to-night and photograph him to-morrow, with flo under his wings to show his enormous size.”

“oh! that minds me o’ the elephants,” cried junkie, jumping up and running to jackman, who was assisting. barret to arrange plants for milly. “we are all here now—an’ you promised, you know.”

a heavy patter of rain on the window seemed to emphasise junkie’s request by suggesting that nothing better could be done.

“well, junkie, i have no objection,” said the woods-and-forester, “if the rest of the company do not object.”

as the rest of the company did not object, but rather expressed anxiety to hear about the hunt, jackman drew his chair near to the fire, the boys crowded round him, and he began with,—“let me see. where was i?”

“in india, of course,” said junkie. “yes; but at what part of the hunt?”

“oh! you hadn’t begun the hunt at all. you had only made chand somethin’ or other, isri per-what-d’ee-call-it, an’ raj mung-thingumy give poor mowla buksh such an awful mauling.”

“just so. well, you must know that next day we received news of large herds of elephants away to the eastward of the ganges, so we started off with all our forces—hunters, matchlock-men, onlookers, etcetera, and about eighty tame elephants. chief among these last were the fighting elephants, to which junkie gave such appropriate names just now, and king of them all was the mighty chand moorut, who had never been known to refuse a fight or lose a victory since he was grown up.

“it was really grand to see this renowned mountain of living flesh towering high above his fellows. like all heroes, he was calm and dignified when not in action—a lamb in the drawing-room, a lion in the field. even the natives, accustomed as they were to these giants, came to look at him admiringly that morning as he walked sedately out of camp. he was so big that he seemed to grow bigger while you looked at him, and he was absolutely perfect in form and strength—the very hercules of brutes.

“the trackers had marked down a herd of wild elephants, not three miles distant, in a narrow valley, just suited to our purpose. on reaching the ground we learned that there was, in the jungle, a ‘rogue’ elephant—that is, an old male, which had been expelled from the herd. such outcasts are usually very fierce and dangerous. this one was a tusker, who had been the terror of the neighbourhood, having killed many people, among them a forester, only a few days before our arrival.

“as these ‘rogues’ are always very difficult to overcome, and are almost sure to injure the khedda, or tame elephants of the hunt, if an attempt is made to capture them, we resolved to avoid him, and devote our attention entirely to the females and young ones. we formed a curious procession as we entered the valley—rajah and civilians, military men and mahowts, black and white, on pads and in howdahs—the last being the little towers that you see on elephants’ backs in pictures.

“gun-men had been sent up to the head of the valley to block the way in that direction. the sides were too steep for elephants to climb. thus we had them, as it were, in a trap, and formed up the khedda in battle array. the catching, or non-combatant elephants, were drawn up in two lines, and the big, fighting elephants were kept in reserve, concealed by bushes. the sides of the valley were crowded with matchlock-men, ready to commence shouting and firing at a given signal, and drive the herd in the direction of the khedda.

“it was a beautiful forenoon when we commenced to move forward. all nature seemed to be waiting in silent expectation of the issue of our hunt, and not a sound was heard, the strictest silence having been enjoined upon all. rich tropical vegetation hung in graceful lines and festoons from the cliffs on either side, but there was no sign of the gun-men concealed there. the sun was—”

“oh! bother the sun! come on wi’ the fight,” exclaimed the impatient junkie.

“all in good time, my boy. the sun was blazing in my eyes, i was going to say, so, you see, i could not make out the distant view, and therefore, can’t describe it,” (“glad of it,” murmured the impertinent junkie); “but i knew that the wild elephants were there, somewhere in the dense jungle. suddenly a shot was heard at the head of the valley. we afterwards learned that it had been fired over the head of a big tusker elephant that stood under a tree not many yards from the man who fired. being young, like junkie, and giddy, it dashed away down the valley, trumpeting wildly; and you have no conception how active and agile these creatures can be, if you have seen only the slow, sluggish things that are in our zoos at home! so terrible was the sound of this elephant’s approach, that the ranks of the khedda elephants were thrown into some confusion, and the mahowts had difficulty in preventing them from turning tail and running away. our leader, therefore, ordered the gladiator, chand moorut, to the front. indeed, chand ordered himself to the front, for no sooner did he hear the challenge of the tusker, than he dashed forward alone to accept it, and his mahowt found it almost impossible to restrain him. fortunately the jungle helped the mahowt by hiding the tusker from view.

“when the wild elephant caught sight of the line of the khedda, he went at it with a mighty rush, crashing through bush and brake, and overturning small trees like straws, until he got into the dry bed of a stream. there he stopped short, for the colossal chand moorut suddenly appeared and charged him. the wild tusker, however, showed the white feather. he could not, indeed, avoid the shock altogether, but, yielding to it, he managed to keep his legs, turned short round, and fled past his big foe. chand moorut had no chance with the agile fellow in a race. he was soon left far behind, while the tusker charged onward. the matchlock-men tried in vain to check him. as he approached the line, the khedda elephants fled in all directions. thrusting aside some, and overturning others that came in his way, he held on his course, amid the din of shouting and rattling of shots, and finally, got clear away!”

“oh, what a pity!” exclaimed junkie.

“but that did not matter much,” continued jackman; “for news was brought in that the herd we had been after were not in that valley at all, but in the next one, and had probably heard nothing of all the row we had been making; so we collected our forces, and went after them.

“soon we got to the pass leading into the valley, and then, just beyond it, came quite suddenly on a band of somewhere about thirty wild elephants. they were taken quite by surprise, for they were feeding at the time on a level piece of ground of considerable extent. as it was impossible to surround them, away the whole khedda went helter-skelter after them. it was a tremendous sight. the herd had scattered in all directions, so that our khedda was also scattered. each hunting elephant had two men on its back—one, the nooseman, sitting on its neck, with a strong, thick rope in his hands, on which was a running noose; the other, the driver, who stood erect on the animal’s back, holding on by a loop with one hand, and in the other flourishing an instrument called the mungri, with sharp spikes in it, wherewith to whip the poor animal over the root of his tail; for of course an ordinary whip would have had no more effect than a peacock’s feather, on an elephant’s hide!

“i ordered my mahowt to keep near one of the noosemen, whom i knew to be expert in the use of the giant-lasso. his name was ramjee. both ramjee and his driver were screaming and yelling at the pitch of their voices, and the latter was applying his mungri with tremendous energy. the elephant they were after was a small female. it is always necessary that the chasing elephant should be much heavier than the one chased, else evil results follow, as we soon found. presently the khedda elephant was alongside. ramjee lifted the great loop in both hands, and leaned over till he almost touched the wild animal. frequently this noosing fails from various reasons. for one thing, the wild creatures are often very clever at evading the noose: sometimes they push it away with their trunks; occasionally they step right through it, and now and then get only half through it, so that it forms a sort of tow rope, and the other end of this rope being made fast to the neck of the tame elephant, the wild one drags it along violently, unless the tame one is much heavier than itself. this is exactly what happened to ramjee. he dropped the noose beautifully over the creature’s head, but before it could be hauled tight—which was accomplished by checking the tame animal—the active creature had got its forelegs through. the loop caught, however, on its hind quarters, and away it went, dragging the tame elephant after it, ramjee shrieking wildly for help. two of the other tame elephants, not yet engaged, were sent to his assistance. these easily threw two more nooses over the wild creature, and, after a good run, she was finally exhausted, secured with ropes, and driven back to camp, there to be subjected to coercive treatment until she should become tame.

“meanwhile, other captures were being made in the field. i was just moving off, after seeing this female secured, when a tremendous shouting attracted me. it was a party chasing a fine young tusker. he was very cunning, and ran about, dodging hither and thither, taking advantage of every tree and bush and inequality, while the mahowts failed again and again to noose him. i made my mahowt drive our animal so as to turn him back. we had no appliances to capture, as i was there only to look on and admire. at last a good throw noosed him, but he slipped through, all except one hind leg. on this the noose luckily held, and in a few minutes we had him secure. of course, in driving our prisoners to camp, the tame elephants were used to guide them, stir them up, push them on, and restrain or punish them, as the case might require. this was easy with the smaller females and young ones, but it was a very different matter with big males, especially with rogues, as we found out before the close of that day.

“we were getting pretty well used up towards the afternoon, and had sent ten full-grown elephants and three calves into camp, when we received news that the rogue, which had been so long a terror to the district, was in the neighbouring valley. so we resolved to go for him. of course there was no possibility of noosing such a monster. the ordinary elephants could never have been brought to face him. our only hope therefore lay in our gladiators; and our plan was to make them knock him down repeatedly, until, at length, he should be tired out.

“i need not waste time with details. it is sufficient to say that, after about an hour’s search, we came upon the rogue in a dense part of the jungle. he was, as i have said, unusually big, as well as fierce. but our hero, chand moorut, had never yet met his match, so we resolved to risk an encounter. there was the dry bed of a river, which the rogue would have to cross when driven down the valley by the gun-men. here our gladiator was placed, partially concealed and ready to meet the rogue when he should appear. fifty yards back the other fighting elephants were placed in support, and behind these were drawn up the rest of the khedda in three lines. then the spectators, many of whom were ladies, were placed on a ledge of rock about forty feet above the river-bed, which commanded a good view of the proposed field of battle.

“up to this time perfect silence had been maintained in our ranks. my elephant was stationed near the centre of the line, from which point i could see chand moorut standing calmly near the river-bed, with what i could almost fancy was a twinkle in his eye, as though he suspected what was coming.

“suddenly a single shot was heard from up the valley. as it came echoing towards us, it was mingled with the spattering fire, shouting and yelling of the beaters, who began to advance. chand moorut became rigid and motionless, like a statue. he was evidently thinking! another instant, and the rogue’s shrill trumpet-note of defiance rang high above the din. trembling and restive the ordinary khedda elephants showed every symptom of alarm; but the fighters stood still, with the exception of chand, who, becoming inflated with the spirit of war, made a sudden dash up the valley, intent on accepting the challenge! fifty yards were passed before his mahowt, with voice, limb, and prod managed to reduce the well-trained warrior to obedience. solemnly, and with stately gait, he returned to his position, his great heart swelling, no doubt, with anticipation.

“scarcely had he taken up his position when the bushes higher up were seen to move, and the huge black form of the rogue appeared upon the scene. unlike the lively young elephant that had escaped us in the morning, this old rogue marched sedately and leisurely down the hill-side, apparently as much unconcerned about the uproar of shooting and shouting in his rear as if it had been but the buzzing of a few mosquitoes. i confess that doubts as to the issue of the combat arose in my mind when i first saw him, for he appeared to be nearly, if not quite, as big as chand moorut himself, and of course i knew that the hard and well-trained muscles of a wild elephant were sure to be more powerful than those of a tame one. i stupidly forgot, at the moment, that indomitable pluck counts for much in a trial of mere brute force.

“ignorant of what was in store for him, with head erect, and an air of quiet contempt for all animate creation, the rogue walked into the dry bed of the river, and began to descend. expectation was now on tiptoe, when to our disgust he turned sharp to the right, and all but walked in amongst the spectators on the ledge above, some of whom received him with a volley of rifle balls. as none of these touched a vital spot, they might as well have been rhubarb pills! they turned him aside, however, and, breaking through the left flank of the khedda, he took refuge in the thickest jungle he could find. the whole khedda followed in hot pursuit, crashing through overgrowth of canes, creepers, and trees, in the midst of confusion and rumpus utterly inconceivable, therefore beyond my powers of description! we had to look out sharply in this chase, for we were passing under branches at times. one of these caught my man quin, and swept him clean off his pad. but he fell on his feet, unhurt, and was quickly picked up and re-seated.

“in a short time we came in sight of the rogue, who suddenly turned at bay and confronted us. the entire khedda came to a most inglorious halt, for our heavy fighters had been left behind in the race, and the others dared not face the foe. seeing this, he suddenly dashed into the midst of us, and went straight for the elephant on which our director and his wife were seated! fortunately, a big tree, chancing to come in the rogue’s way, interfered with his progress. he devoted his energies to it for a few moments. then he took to charging furiously at everything that came in his way, and was enjoying himself with this little game when chand moorut once more appeared on the scene! the rogue stopped short instantly. it was evident that he recognised a foeman, worthy of his steel, approaching. chand moorut advanced with alacrity. the rogue eyed him with a sinister expression. there was no hesitation on either side. both warriors were self-confident; nevertheless, they did not rush to the battle. like equally-matched veterans they advanced with grim purpose and wary deliberation. with heads erect, and curled trunks, they met, more like wrestlers than swordsmen, each seeming to watch for a deadly grip. suddenly they locked their trunks together, and began to sway to and fro with awful evidence of power, each straining his huge muscles to the uttermost—the conflict of leviathan and behemoth!

“for only a few minutes did the result seem doubtful to the hundreds of spectators, who, on elephant-back or hill-side, gazed with glaring eyes and bated breath, and in profound silence. the slightly superior bulk and weight of our gladiator soon began to tell. the rogue gave way, slightly. chand moorut, with the skill of the trained warrior or the practised pugilist, took instant advantage of the move. with the rush of a thunder-bolt he struck the rogue with his head on the shoulder. the effect was terrific. it caused him to turn a complete somersault into the jungle, where he fell with a thud and a crash that could be heard far and near, and there he lay sprawling for a few moments, nothing but struggling legs, trunk, and tail being visible above the long grass!”

“hooray!” shouted junkie, unable to restrain himself.

“just what my man quin said,” continued jackman. “only he added, ‘musha!’ ‘thunder-an’-turf,’ and ‘well, i niver!’ and well he might, too, for none of us ever saw such a sight before. but the victory was not quite gained yet, for the rogue sprang up with amazing agility, and, refusing again to face such a terrible foe, he ran away, pursued hotly and clamorously by the whole khedda. i made my mahowt keep as close to chand moorut as possible, wishing to be in at the death. suddenly a louder uproar in advance, and a shrill trumpeting assured me that the rogue had again been brought to bay.

“although somewhat exhausted and shaken by his flight and the tremendous knock down, he fought viciously, and kept all his smaller foes at a respectful distance by repeated charges, until chand moorut again came up and laid him flat with another irresistible charge. he staggered to his feet again, however, and now the other fighting elephants, raj mungul, isri pershad, and others, were brought into action. these attacked the rogue furiously, knocking him down when he attempted to rise, and belabouring him with their trunks until he was thoroughly exhausted. then one of the khedda men crept up behind him on foot, with thick ropes fitted for the purpose of tying him, and fixed them on the rogue’s hind legs. but the brave man paid heavily for his daring. he was still engaged with the ropes when the animal suddenly kicked out and broke the poor fellow’s thigh. he was quickly lifted up and taken to camp.

“not so quickly, however, was the rogue taken to camp! as it was growing dark, some of us resolved to bivouac where the capture had been made, and tied our captive to a tree. next morning we let him go with only a hind leg hobbled, so that he might find breakfast for himself. then, having disposed of our own breakfast, we proceeded to induce our prisoner to go along with us—a dangerous and difficult operation. as long as he believed that he might go where he pleased, we could induce him to take a few steps, forward, but the moment he understood what we were driving at, he took the sulks, like an enormous spoilt child, and refused to move. the koonkies were therefore brought up, and raj mungul, going behind, gave him a shove that was irresistible. he lost temper and turned furiously on raj, but received such an awful whack on the exposed flank from isri pershad, that he felt his case to be hopeless, and sulked again. going down on his knees he stuck his tusks into the ground, like a sheet anchor, with a determination that expressed, ‘move me out o’ this if you can!’

“chand moorut accepted the unspoken challenge. he gave the rogue a shove that not only raised his hind legs in the air, but caused him to stand on his head, and finally hurled him on his back. as he rose, doggedly, he received several admonitory punches, and advanced a few paces. spearmen also were brought forward to prick him on, but they only induced him to curl his trunk round a friendly tree that came in his way, and hold on. neither bumping, pricking, nor walloping had now any effect. he seemed to have anchored himself there for the remainder of his natural life by an unnatural attachment.

“in this extremity the khedda men had recourse to their last resource. they placed under him some native fireworks, specially prepared for such emergencies, and, as it were, blew him up moderately. being thus surprised into letting go his hold of the tree, he was urged slowly forward as before. you see, we did not want to kill the beast, though he richly deserved death, having killed so many natives, besides keeping a whole neighbourhood in alarm for years. we were anxious to take him to camp, and we managed it at last, though the difficulty was almost superhuman, and may to some extent be conceived when i tell you that, although we spent the whole of that day, from dawn to sunset, struggling with our obstinate captive, and with the entire force of the khedda, we only advanced to the extent of four or five hundred yards!”

now, while this amazing story was being told by giles jackman to his friends in barret’s room, a very different story was being told in the room above them. that room was the nursery, and its only occupants were little flo and her black doll. the rain had cleared off towards the afternoon, and a gleam of sunshine entering the nursery windows, had formed a spot of intense light on the nursery floor. this seemed to have suggested something of great interest to flo, for, after gazing at it with bright eyes for some time, she suddenly held the doll before her and said—

“blackie, i’m goin’ to tell you a stowy—a bustingly intewestin’ stowy.”

we must remind the reader here that flo was naturally simple and sweet, and that as junkie was her chief playmate, she was scarcely responsible for her language.

“the stowy,” continued flo, “is all ’bout doan of ak, who was bu’nt by some naughty men, long, long ago! d’you hear, blackie? it would make your hair stand on end—if you had any!”

thereupon the little one set blackie on a stool, propped her against the wall, and gave her a fairly correct account of the death of the unfortunate joan of arc, as related by mrs gordon that morning. she wound up with the question,—“now, what you think of zat, blackie?”

as blackie would not answer, flo had to draw on her own bank of imagination for further supplies of thought.

“come,” she cried, suddenly, with the eagerness of one whose cheque has just been honoured; “let’s play at doan of ak! you will be doan, and i will be the naughty men. i’ll bu’n you! you mustn’t squeal, or kick up a wumpus, you know, but be dood.”

having made this stipulation, our little heroine placed the black martyr on an old-fashioned straw-bottomed chair near the window, and getting hold of a quantity of paper and some old cotton dresses, she piled the whole round blackie to represent faggots. this done, she stepped back and surveyed her work as an artist might study a picture.

“you’ve dot your best muslin fock on, da’ling, an it’ll be spoiled; but i don’t care for zat. now, say your pays, doan.”

with this admonitory remark, flo screwed up a piece of paper, went to the fireplace, made a very long arm through the fender, and lighted it. next moment she applied the flame to the faggots, which blazed up with surprising rapidity.

stepping quickly back, the dear little child gazed at her work with intense delight beaming from every feature.

“now be dood, blackie. don’t make a wumpus!” she said; and as she said it, the flames caught the window curtains and went up with a flare that caused flo to shout with mingled delight and alarm.

“i wonder,” remarked mrs gordon, who chanced to be in the drawing-room on the windward side of the nursery, “what amuses flo so much!”

she arose and went, leisurely, to see.

roderick, the groom, being in the harness-room on the lee side of the nursery at the time, made a remark with the same opening words.

“i wonder,” said he, “what that wull pe!” a sniffing action of the nose told what “that” meant. “don’t you smell a smell, tonal’?”

donald sniffed, and replied that he did—“what-?-ver.”

“it wull pe somethin’ on fire, tonal’,” said the groom, dropping the harness-brush and running out to the yard.

donald being of the same opinion, followed him. at the same moment a piercing shriek was heard to issue from the house and wild confusion followed.

“fire! fire!” yelled a voice in the yard outside, with that intensity of meaning which is born of thorough conviction.

who that has never been roused by “fire!” can imagine the sensations that the cry evokes, and who that really has experienced those sensations can hope to explain them to the inexperienced? we cannot. we will not try.

but let us not plunge with undue haste into a fire!

it will be remembered that we left jackman in barret’s room, having just ended his elephant story, to the satisfaction of his friends, while mrs gordon was on her way to the nursery, bent on investigation. well, the voice that shrieked in the nursery was that of mrs gordon, and that which yelled in the yard was the voice of the groom, supplemented by donald’s treble.

of course the gentlemen sprang to their feet, on hearing the uproar, dashed from the room in a body, and made straight for the nursery. on the way they met mrs gordon with flo in her arms—all safe; not a hair of her pretty little head singed, but looking rather appalled by the consequences of what she had done.

“safe! thank god!” exclaimed the laird, turning and descending with his wife and child, with some vague thoughts that he might be likely to find mrs moss in her favourite place of resort, the library.

he was right. he found her there in a dead faint on the floor. he also found his three boys there, exerting themselves desperately to haul her out of the room by a foot and an arm and the skirt of her dress.

“we knew she was here, daddy,” gasped eddie, “and came straight to help her.”

“out o’ the way!” cried the laird as he grasped mrs moss in his arms and bore her away. “mother and flo are safe, boys. look out for yourselves.”

“i’ll go for the photographs! come, help me, ted,” cried archie, as he ran up the now smoking stairs.

“i’ll go for milly!” cried the heroic junkie, as, with flashing eyes, he dashed towards her room.

but barret had gone for milly before him! and without success. she was not in her room. “milly! milly!” he shouted, in tones of undisguised anxiety, as he burst out of the nursery, after finding, with his companions, that no one was there and that suffocation was imminent. then, as no milly replied, he rushed up to the garret in the belief that she might have taken refuge there or on the roof in her terror.

just after he had rushed out of the nursery, junkie burst in. the boy was in his element now. we do not mean that he was a salamander and revelled in fire and smoke, but he had read of fires and heard of them till his own little soul was ablaze with a desire to save some one from a fire—any one—somehow, or anyhow! finding, like the rest, that he could scarcely breathe, he made but one swift circuit of the room. in doing so he tumbled on the chair on which the cause of all the mischief still sat smoking, but undeniably “dood!”

“blackie!” he gasped, and seized hold of her denuded but still unconsumed wooden body.

a few moments later he sprang through the entrance door and tumbled out on the lawn, where most of the females of the establishment were standing.

“saved!” he cried, in a voice of choking triumph, as he rose and held up the rescued and smoking doll.

“doan! my da’ling doan!” cried flo, extending her arms eagerly to receive the martyr.

by that time the house was fairly alight in its upper storey, despite the utmost efforts of all the men to extinguish the fire with buckets of water.

“no use, no use to waste time trying,” said the laird, as he ran out among the females on the lawn. “is everybody safe? eh? milly—where’s milly?”

“milly! where’s milly?” echoed a stentorian voice, as barret bounded out of the smoking house with singed hair and blackened face.

“there—there she is!” cried several of the party, as they pointed towards the avenue leading to the house.

all eyes were eagerly turned in that direction, and a general exclamation of thankfulness escaped, as milly was seen running towards the scene of action. she had been down seeing old mrs donaldson, and knew nothing of what had occurred, till she came in sight of the conflagration.