CHAPTER XIII
_Neela Deo, King of All Elephants_
This is the story of Neela Deo, King of all elephants! Protector ofthe Innocent! Defender of Defenders! Equitable King!
For his sake, knowledge of the place where he was known and of thosewho looked upon his person, shall go down from generation to generationinto the future and shall be continued forever, under the illuminationof his name.
How he preserved the great judge and how he fought that mightiest ofall battles, for the honour of his kind and for the preservation of hisliege-son, must be told in order.
The fortune of the season, the features of the town, and the chiefnames must be established.
See that nothing shall be added. See that no part be left unspoken.It is the law.
The great rains had passed on their way north; and they had been goodto the Central Provinces country. The water-courses were even yet buta line below flood; the tanks were full, the wells abrim. The earthwas clothed with new garmenture. Jungle creatures were all in theirannual high-carnival. Life-forces were driving to full speed.
The town of Hurda, on the great triple Highway-of-all-India, clung tothe side of her little river leaning against the massive buttressedwalls of her old grey stone terraces, where--on their widestep-landings--at all seasons, she burned her human dead by the tide'smargin.
The great Highway spanned the river on a broad low stone bridge andturned--just south of the burning ghats--with a majestic sweepnorthward, between its four lines of sacred, flowering, perfumed andshade trees. Remember, those trees were planted by the forgottenpeoples of dead kings, for each within his own realm; they were allnourished under the unfailing rivalry that the highway of each kingshould be more excellent in beneficence and in beauty than the highwayof his neighbour kings.
But from High Himalaya to the beaches of Madras, from sea to sea, thetriple Highway-of-all-India was nowhere more august than here, whereNeela Deo lived. The exalted splendours of those so ancient andimperial trees rendered distinction to the town, in passing through it,like a procession of the radiant gods.
Beyond the hill and well outside the town--which would be called a cityif it were walled, which would be walled if a wall would not separateit from the great Highway--was the station Oval, where railway peoplelived in European bungalows of many colours, round about the_gymkhana_--a building made to contain music and strange games; butfrom the arches of all its verandahs the railway people saw.
On the other side from the Oval and toward Hurda, was the little oldbungalow where Margaret Annesley--of the tender heart--out of herlonely garden, looked that day and saw.
Across the great Highway from the temple of Manu, the bungalow ofDickson Sahib sheltered under the mighty sweep of full bearing mangotrees. His small son stood between two teachers in the deep verandahand beat his hands together while he saw.
At the top of the hill, the bare bungalow of the old missionary Sahibmade protest against the perfume-drunken orient and the colour-madEuropean world of India with its carbolic-acid whitewash and chastelines. Down the driveway his children ran away from their teachers andsaw.
But in sight of the town--as should be--and beside the courts--asshould be--stood the austere home of the Chief Commissioner, most highcivil judge of Hurda and all surrounding villages. One of his deputiesleaned from an upper balcony and saw.
Back of his park, more than three quarters of a mile away, were thestockades of the Chief Commissioner's elephants. A round parade groundspread its almost level disk straight away front of the stockadebuildings. Perfectly rimmed by a variety of low jungle growths,nesting thick at the feet of a circle of tall tamarisk trees, itseffect was satisfying to the eye beyond anything seen about the homesof men. Nay, the avenues which led up to the palaces of ancient kingswere not so good!
Now all is established concerning the time and the place and those whosaw; and it will not be questioned by any save the very ignorant--whoare not considered in the telling of tales.
So in the day of Neela Deo, most exalted King of all elephants, came arunner at the end of his last strength. Stripped naked, but for hismeagre loincloth, the oils of his body ran thick down all his limbs andhis splitting veins shed blood from his nostrils and from his mouth.In the market-place he fell and with his last breaths coughed out abroken message.
Many gathered to discover his meaning. Spread a swift excitement. Theshops were emptied, the doorways and alleys opened, and streams ofpeople poured out into a common tide.
Perfume dealers brought copper flasks of priceless oils. Flowermerchants gathered up their entire stock of freshly prepared garlandsof marigold and tuberose and jasmine and champak blooms--banked massesof garlands were hung on scores of scores of reaching arms, lifted tocarry them. Sixty full pieces of white turban-cloth were caught fromthe shelves of cloth sellers.
Companies and companies of nautch-girls, with their men-servants andinstruments to accompany them--even the most costly of these, who werealso singing women--poured out of the districts where the towns-womenlived and blended in their groups as individual units, in theincreasing surge that flowed out along the great Highway, like a riverwhich had broken its dam.
The multitude followed the great highway past the station oval andturned aside into the open jungle--deepening, thickening, swelling,teeming forward. Twenty thousand voices, lifted in all pitches of thehuman compass, were caught by tom-toms and the impelling cadence of thesinging nautch-girls--like drift-wood in a swift current--and driveninto rhythmic pulsation.
So the people of Hurda went out to meet Neela Deo, King of allelephants.
When the front of the throng went by his place, Hand-of-a-God enquiredof running men from his own gateway. By his side the Gul Moti stoodwith Son of Power. When they understood, she pushed her chosen of allmen through the vine-made arch and he sprang away and ran with thepeople.
They shared their garlands with him, that he should not come into NeelaDeo's presence with empty hands; and they exulted because he ran withthem, for the fame of Son-of-Power was already established.
At the margins of the true jungle, a high-tenor voice came out to meetthem. The feeling in it chained Skag's ear; it was like a strong mancontending bravely with his tongue, but calling on the gods for help,with his heart. Listening intently, the American began to get thewords:
"What are we before thee--oh thou most Exalted! Children of men, ourgenerations pass before thee as the seasons. But thou, oh mightyKing--thou Destroyer of the devastator, thou Protector of our wisejudge, blessed among men is he for whom thou hast spilled thy blood!We will send his name down from generation to generation under thelight of thy name! Thou most Glorious!"
The next words were more difficult to catch:
"Nay, nay! but my beloved, it is a little hurt! Do I not know, whoserve thee? I whose father served thee before me--whose father servedthee before him? I whose son shall serve thee after me? As my smallson lives, he shall serve thee--being come a man--in his day, even as Iserve thee in this my day!"
This was evidently enticing the great creature to live. But the voicewinged away again:
"Ah, thou heart of my heart, thou life of my life! Hear me, the milkof a thousand goats shall cool thee. The petals of a thousand bloomsshall comfort thee. Tuberose and jasmine and champak shall comfortthee, thou Lover of rare things! Nay, it is not enough, but theofferings of the heart's core of love shall satisfy thee--the blood ofa million-million blooms shall anoint thee, to thy refreshment!"
The words were lost for a moment, before they rang again:
"Are not the coverings of our heads upon thy wounds? Thou, mostexcellent in majesty! Have we not laid the symbols of our honour uponthy wounds? Thou, with the wisdom of all ages in thy head and thetenderness of all women in thy heart! We have seen thee suffer, thathe who is worthy might live! Thou Discerner of men! We have seen theedestroy the killer, without hurt to him who is kind! Thou EquitableKing!"
And slowly
out of the shadows of forest trees, came the ChiefCommissioner's elephant caravan, trailing in very dejected formation,behind Neela Deo, who showed naked as to his back--for his housings hadbeen stripped off him; and as to his neck, for Kudrat Sharif was not onit but on the ground--walking backward step by step, enticing him withthe adoration and sympathy of his voice.
Sanford Hantee saw Neela Deo stop to receive the first garlands on histrunk. From there on, the great elephant paused deliberately afterevery step to take the offerings of homage from hundreds of reachinghands.
When the American had laid his garlands over Neela Deo's trunk and wasabout to make his turn in the press, he saw the Chief Commissionerhimself, walking behind the wounded elephant with uncovered head.After a keen glance, the great judge motioned Skag to close in by hisside. His strong face was shadowed by deep concern; and for some timehe did not speak. This was the man of whom Skag had heard that hisname was one to conjure with. His fame was for unfailing equity,which--together with strange powers of discernment and bewilderingkindness--had won for him the profound devotion of the people. Skag'sthoughts were on these matters when he heard, on a low explosive breath:
"Most extraordinary thing I've ever seen!"
The Englishman's eye scarcely left the huge figure swaying before himand the distress in his face was obvious.
"I see you're greatly concerned," Skag said gently.
"Well, you understand, I've jolly good right to be--he saved my life!And he's got a hole in his neck you can put your head into--only it'sfilled up and covered up with twenty dirty turbans! And by the way,you may not know, but it's unwritten law--past touching--the man inthis country never uncovers his head excepting in the presence of hisown women. It's more than a man's life is worth to knock another'sturban off, even by accident. But look, yonder are the turbans of mycaravan--deputies, law-clerks and servants together--on Neela Deo'sneck! Their heads are bare before this multitude and without shame.What's one to make of it? There's no knowing these people!"
Skag's eye quite unconsciously dropped to the white helmet, carriedceremonially in the hand; and glancing away quickly, he caught amounting flush on the stern countenance.
Presently the Chief Commissioner spoke again:
"We were coming in on the best trail through a steady bit of really oldtree-jungle--Neela Deo leading, as always. We've been out nine weeksfrom home, among the villages. It's not supposed to be spoken, but astretch like that is rather a grind. The elephants wanted their ownstockades; they were tired of pickets. You understand, they're allthoroughly trained. They answer their individual mahouts like a man'sown fingers. Neela Deo is the only elephant I've heard of who has beenknown to run; I mean, to really run--and then only when he's coming infrom too many weeks out.
"Few European men have ever seen an elephant run. Nothing alive canpass him on the ground but the great snake. I stayed on top of NeelaDeo once when he ran home. It was not good sitting. I've never caredfor the experience again.
"As the jungle began to open toward Hurda, he was nervous. Of course Ishould have been more alive to his behaviour--should have made out whatwas disturbing him. If we lose him, I shall feel very muchresponsible. But his mahout was easing him with low chants--made of athousand love-words. They're not bad to think by. I was clear awayoff in an adjustment of old Hindu and British law--you know we have touse both together; and sometimes they're hard to fit.
"I know no more about how it happened than you do. I was knocked wellup out of my abstraction by a most unmerciful jolt. Kudrat Sharif hadbeen raked off Neela Deo's neck and was scrambling to his feet on theground. In one glimpse I saw his _dothi_ was torn and a long drippingcut on one thigh. He shouted, but I couldn't make it out, because allthe elephants were trumpeting to the universe.
"There are always four hunting pieces in the howdah and I reached forthe heaviest automatically, leaning over to see whatever it was. Therewas nothing intelligible in the hell of noise and nothing in sight. Itell you, I could not see a hair of any creature under me--but NeelaDeo. And don't fancy Neela Deo was quiet this while. My howdah waspitching me to the four quarters of heaven--with no one to tell whichnext. Six of the hunters had rifles trained on us, but I knew theydared not fire for the fear of hitting me or him. And I'm confidentthey would be as ready to do the one as the other.
"Then he began swaying from side to side with me. It was a frightfuljog at first, but he went more and more evenly, further and furtherevery swing, till I kept myself from spilling out by the sheer grip ofmy hands. The rifles were knocking about loose.
"At last I was up-ended cornerwise and I thought, on my word, I thoughtmy elephant had turned upside down. A shriek fairly split my head openand Neela Deo was dancing straight up and down on one spot. It was athorough churning, but it was a change.
"I should say his dance had lasted sixty seconds or more, before hehimself spoke; then he put up his trunk and uttered a long strongblast. I've never heard anything like it; in eighteen years amongelephants, I've never heard anything like it.
"After that he slowed down and they closed in on him, with weeping andlaughter and pandemonium of demonstrations, mostly without meaning tome, till I climbed down and saw the remains of what must have been aprime Bengali tiger--under his feet.
"It had charged his neck and gotten a hold and eaten in for the bigblood-drink. It had gripped and clung with its four feet--there areghastly enough wounds--but the hole it chewed in his neck is hideous.
"He poured blood in a shocking stream till they checked it with somekind of jungle leaves and their turbans. And you see--he's groggy.He's quite liable to stagger to his knees any moment. If he gets in tohis own stockades, there may be a chance for him; but he doesn't lookit just now. Still, I fancy they're keeping him up rather. Eh? Ohyes, quite so."
The Chief Commissioner wiped his forehead patiently, before he went on:
"You're an extraordinary young man, Sir. I've heard about you; thepeople call you Son-of-Power. You haven't interrupted me once--not onein twenty could have done it. I'm glad to know you."
This was spoken very rapidly and Skag smiled:
"I'm interested."
The Chief Commissioner's eyes bored into Skag with almost impersonalpenetration, till the young American knew why this big Englishman'sname was one to conjure with. Then he went on:
"Yes, we'll have much in common. You see, I'm working it out in my ownmind. . . . The curious part of it all is, they say an elephant hasnever been known to behave in this manner before. The mahouts seem tounderstand; I don't. This I do know: When a tiger charges anelephant's neck, the elephant's way is--if the tiger has gotten in pastthe thrust of his head--to plunge dead weight against a big tree, anupstanding rock, or lacking these--the ground. In that case he alwaysrolls. You see where I would have been very much mixed with the tiger.
"In this case, Neela Deo measured his balance on a swing and when hefound how far he dare go, he took his chance and struck the cat offwith his own front leg. It's past belief if you know an elephant'sanatomy."
The Chief Commissioner broke off. Neela Deo had lurched and waswavering, as if about to go down. The sense of tears was in KudratSharif's voice; but it loomed into courage, as it chanted the superiorexcellence of Neela Deo's attributes.
Then Neela Deo braced himself and went on, but more slowly. The bigEnglishman smiled tenderly:
"He's a white-wizard, is Kudrat Sharif--that mahout! He does beautifulmagic, with his passion and with his pain. It's practically worship,you understand; but the point is, it works!
"The mahouts say Neela Deo did the thing for me; stood up and took it,till he could kill the beast without killing me. Oh, you'll neverconvince them otherwise. They'll make much of it. They're alreadypledged to establish it in tradition--which means more than one wouldthink. These mahouts come of lines that know the elephant from beforeour ancestors were named. They know him as entirely as men can. Allhis customs are common knowledg
e to them--in all ordinary and in allextraordinary circumstances. They say that once in many generations anelephant appears who is superior to his fellows--he's the one whosometimes surprises them."
The Chief Commissioner stopped, looking into Skag's eyes for a minute,before he finished:
"I'm a Briton, you understand; stubborn to a degree--positively requiredemonstration. I'm not qualified to open the elephant-cult toyou--it's as sealed as anything--but I've had bits; and I recommendyou--if you'll permit me--to give courtesy to whatever the mahouts maychoose to tell you. You'll find it more than interesting."
"I'm very grateful to you," Skag answered. "I've had a promise ofsomething and I mean to know more about the mahouts and aboutelephants."
It was well on in the night when the elephants turned down out of thegreat highway into their own stockades. Neela Deo staggered and swayedever so slowly forward, with his head low and his trunk resting heavyand inert on Kudrat Sharif's shoulder; but he got in.
After that no man saw him for sixteen weeks--save the mahouts of hisown stockades. But every morning the flower merchants sent huge moundsof flower garlands to comfort him.
Then a proclamation was shouted in the marketplace--in the name of theChief Commissioner--calling all to come and sit in seats which had beenprepared around the parade ground before his elephant stockades--towitness the celebration of Neela Deo's recovery. Great was therejoicing.
Many Europeans of distinction answered the Chief Commissioner'sinvitation--from as far as Bombay. But all the Europeans togetherlooked very few; for from the surrounding villages and towns andcities, a vast multitude had been flooding in for days. Sixty-twothousand people found places in good sight of the arena, in preparedseats. That number had been reckoned for; but half as many morethronged the roofs of the stockade buildings and hung--multicoloureddensity--from their parapets. And above all, a few tall tamarisk treesdrooped long branches under hundreds of small boys.
Famous nautch-girls had come from distant cities and trained with thoseof Hurda for an important part in the celebration. They were allstaged on twelve Persian-carpeted platforms, ranged on the groundwithin the outer edge of the arena and close against the foot of thecircular tier of seats. Artists of the world had wrought to clothethese women. Artists in fabric-weaving, in living singing dyes; incloths of gold, in pure wrought-gold and in the setting of gems.
People were looking to find the concealed lights which revealed thisscene of amazing splendour, when thirty-nine of the ChiefCommissioner's elephants came out through the stockade gates, singlefile. Many drums of different kinds, together with a thousand voices,beat a slow double pulse. The elephants, setting their feet preciselyto the steady rhythm of it, marched around the entire arena threetimes. Those elephants were perfect enough--and they knew it! Theywere freshly bathed and groomed. Their ears showed rose-tintedlinings, when they flapped. Their ivories were smooth and pure. Theirhowdahs--new-lacquered--gleamed rose and orange and blue, with crimsonand green silk curtains. Their caparisons of rich velvets, hung heavywith new gold fringes.
Every elephant turned toward the centre of the arena, coming to pauseat his own appointed station, evenly spaced around the circle. Thenevery mahout straightened, freezing to a fixed position that did notdiffer by a line from the position of his neighbour on either side.Now the people saw that this celebration for Neela Deo, King of allelephants, was to show as much pomp as is prepared for kings ofmen--and they were deeply content.
The strings of one sitar began to breathe delicate tones. Other sitarscame in illusively, till they snared the current of human blood in agolden mesh and measured its flow to the time of mounting emotion.Then Neela Deo himself--Neela Deo, the Blue God!--appeared at thestockade gates alone, with Kudrat Sharif on his neck. His caparisonwas of crimson velvet, all over-wrought with gold thread. The goldfringes were a yard deep. The howdah was lacquered in raw gold--itscurtains were imperial blue. Kudrat Sharif was clothed in pure thinwhite--like the son of a prince--but he was very frail; and ninety-oddthousand people sent his name, with the name of Neela Deo, up into theIndian night--for the Indian gods to hear.
Neela Deo was barely in on the sanded disk, when the elephants liftedtheir heads as one and saluted him with an earth-rocking blast; againand yet again. Then he thrust his head forward, reached histrumpet-tip--quivering before him--and made speed till he came close tothe Chief Commissioner's place, where he rendered one soft salute andwheeled into position by the stand. This was a movement no one hadanticipated. Nothing like it was in the plan; the Chief Commissionerhad not intended to ride! But Neela Deo demanded him and there wasnothing for it but to go; so with a very white face, he stepped intothe howdah.
Waves upon waves of enthusiasm swept the multitude. They shouted toheaven--for all time it was established. No man could ever denyit--Neela Deo himself had made his meaning perfectly plain, that he haddone the marvel thing sixteen weeks before, to save the life of hisfriend--their friend! They stood up and flung their flower-garlands onboth of them--as Neela Deo, with a stately tread, carried the ChiefCommissioner around the circle. The nautch-girls sprang from theirplatforms into the middle of the arena and danced their most wonderfuldances--tossing the fallen garlands, like forest fairies at play.
Then a thousand voices lifted upon the great chorus of laudation, whichhad been prepared in high-processional time; the drums and the sitarsfurnishing a dim background for the volume of sound. The elephantsturned out of their stations as Neela Deo passed them and came intotheir accustomed formation behind him. The tread of four times fortysuch ponderous feet, in perfect time with the music, shook the earth.
The chorus told the story of the incredible manner of their ChiefCommissioner's deliverance; it exalted his record and his character; itpledged the preservation of his fame. Then a master-mahout from HighHimalaya went alone to the centre of the disk and in incomparabletones--such as master-mahouts use--having no accompaniment at all, toldthe story of Neela Deo's birthright. The people were utterly hushed;but the elephants kept their even pace--as if listening. Then thegreat chorus came back, rendering the acknowledgment of a human race.
At last the multitude rose up and loosed its strangling exultation inmighty shouts. The elephants raised their big heads, threw high theirtrumpets and rent the leagues of outer night--as if calling to theirbrothers in the Vindha Hills.
The next part of the celebration was to happen suddenly. The mahoutshad planned it in sheer boyishness; and to their mountain hearts itmeant something like the clown-play in a western circus. Its successdepended on whether Neela Deo had enough foolishness in him--to playthe game. So now they wheeled the elephants into their stations again,just in time before one section of the enclosure folded down flat onthe ground. This left that part open to the outside world; for theshrubs that used to grow thick at the feet of the tamarisk trees hadbeen rooted up and green tenting-cloth stretched in their place. Oneshrub still grew in the midst of that opening.
Neela Deo stopped short one moment--frozen so still that he looked likea granite image--then, feeling toward the shrub with his trumpet tip aninstant only, flung up his head with a joyous squeal and was upon itbefore a man could think. The shrub melted to pulp under his trampingfeet. Then they saw the black and yellow stripes of the tiger he hadkilled in this same way--tramping, tramping. He was doing it overagain, for them.
The mahouts laughed, calling their strange mountain calls; and thepeople went quite mad. Even the English taxidermist who had taken thetrouble to sew and roughly stuff that mangled tiger-skin for themahouts--even he shouted with them. Every time Neela Deo put thatlittle quirk into his trunk and slanted his head in that absurdangle--Neela Deo, whose smooth dignity had never shown a wrinklebefore--they broke out afresh.
This clown-play certainly brought the people back to earth; but it didsomething queer to the elephants. Having learned to know human voices,they had already felt the mounting excitement; they had already beentamping the
ground with hard driving strokes, as if making speed on theopen highway--for some time. But in this abandonment to amusement,this joyous unrestraint, they must have found some reminder. They didnot have Neela Deo's sense of humour. But they must have rememberedthe unwalled distances of their own Hills--the hedge of shrubs had beentaken away; the tall slender tamarisk trees still standing, made noobstruction. Beyond the waning torches they must have looked and seenthe quenchless glory of the same old Indian stars.
It was Nut Kut, the great black elephant not long down from his ownwilds among the Vindha Hills, who left his station first and moved onout into the night. Gunpat Rao followed him. . . . One by one theyfiled away. Indeed, there was not one shrub left to bar their path.But in this falling of calamity upon their so successful foolish plan,the mahouts were stricken--desperate. There was something grotesqueabout their hands, as they disappeared. With wild gestures andtwisted-back faces many of them went out of sight. The elephants weresurely their masters, in that hour.
They all passed quite close to where the Chief Commissioner sat inNeela Deo's howdah. Neela Deo had regained his dignity; he was gravelydriving fragments of black and yellow stripes into the sand--patientlyfinishing his job. But Kudrat Sharif's voice had no effect upon theothers; and the Chief Commissioner was entirely helpless. No one couldprevent their going. Then it appeared that one had not gone--oneother, beside Neela Deo.
Mitha Baba, the greatest female of the caravan, under her pale rosecaparison and gold lacquered howdah with its curtains of frost-green,was beating the ground with angry feet and thrusting her head asideimpatiently. Something was holding her. When he saw, the ChiefCommissioner made haste to reach her--leaving Kudrat Sharif, who wasconfident of keeping Neela Deo.
Mitha Baba's station in the circle was close to where the Gul Moti sat;her new housings had been specially designed to recognise her devotionto the Gul Moti, whose low 'cello tones were now soothing the greatcreature and restraining her. But when the Chief Commissionerapproached, Mitha Baba started, flinging herself forward--and the GulMoti was suddenly at the edge of the stand. Just as the elephantlunged out to take her stride, the colourful voice that she had neverrefused to obey said:
"Come near, Mitha Baba, come near!"
Mitha Baba was not sure about it; she struck the voice aside with herhead. But the voice was saying:
"Mitha Baba, you may take me with you!"
Then Son-of-Power was on his feet, but it was too late--Mitha Babadecided quickly and she acted soon--he could not reach the edge in timeto go himself, but on an impulse he threw his great-coat into the GulMoti's hands and she laughed as she caught it from the howdah.
In swerving suddenly to pass close by the stand, the elephant hadunbalanced her boy-mahout from her neck; but his father--the very oldmahout--was coming as fast as he could across the space before them,calling to her--like the lover of wild creatures that he was.
Carlin bent from her howdah and spoke joyously:
"Put him up, Mitha Baba, put him up!"
And Mitha Baba scarcely broke her stride, which was lengthening everystep, as she obediently circled the old man with her trunk andcarelessly flung him on her neck.
"We'll fetch them all home!" the Gul Moti's voice floated back, as theymelted away into the night.
The Chief Commissioner gave Son-of-Power his hand--being without words,for the moment.
"Is she safe?" Skag asked.
"Absolutely safe!" the Chief Commissioner assured him. "The caparisonsmay be doused in the Nerbudda, but the howdahs will not be in the leastwet."
"What did she mean--that she'd fetch them all back?"
"She meant that Mitha Baba has been used in the High Hills--for yearsbefore she was sent down--to decoy wild elephants into thetrap-stockades. She's entirely competent, is Mitha Baba; she's theleader of my caravan--next to Neela Deo. Of course Neela Deo is ouronly hope of overtaking them; he's fast enough, but this is rather soonafter his injury, and he'll have to rest a bit. In the meantime, comeaway up to the house; we'll talk there."