CHAPTER XIV
_Neela Deo, King of All Elephants (Continued)_
To possess one white elephant is calamity. But if Evil--the namelessone--could possess a pair, he would breed an army able to break down thevery walls of Equity.
Indra--supreme hypocrite--fathered the first two, who were brother andsister. Kali--wife of Shiva, the great destroyer--Kali--goddess ofplague and famine and fear and death--was their mother.
Beware the white elephant--who is never white. The stain of Indra is onhis skin; the shadow of Kali on his hair. Honour is not in him!
The Gul Moti had always loved adventures; and she had been in the throatof several. But this was no lark; it was more serious than funny.Thirty-eight of the most valuable elephants in India were rolling awaybefore her toward the Vindha Hills. If they once arrived there, no mancould say how many of them, or if any of them, would ever be recovered.The Nerbudda River crossed their path mid-way--almost at flood. If theyentered that tide--deep and wide and muddy--state-housings of great valuewould be hopelessly damaged.
Mitha Baba was beginning to show that she did not like the old mahout'surging--but Mitha Baba was always willful. Indeed, the Gul Moti wasdepending much on this same willfulness. The splendid female was stillyoung, but she had been for years a celebrated toiler of wild elephants;and it was well known she had loved the game. Had she forgotten it?Could she be reminded? First, it was supremely important to overtake allthe others this side the Nerbudda.
The old mahout gasped a broken cry, as Mitha Baba lifted him and set himnot too gently on the ground; she was in a hurry herself and she wasmaking speed on her own account--she objected to being urged. The GulMoti, understanding in a flash, cried quickly:
"No, no! Mitha Baba, I want him! Put him up to me--put him up tome--soon!"
Mitha Baba wavered in her long stride.
"Mitha Baba, I want him--I want him!"
And the elephant turned on a circle and caught him up, throwing him farenough back, so the Gul Moti could help him into the howdah.
"My day is done!" he said bitterly.
"Nay, father!" the girl physician answered him. "She knew you were notsafe there."
"Is it so?" the old man marvelled. "Indeed, she always loved me! Now Iam satisfied!"
Then, in the white fire of what men call genius, the Gul Moti stood up tomeet this new emergency--leaning toward Mitha Baba's head--and called inringing tones:
"Now come, Mitha Baba, we're away! We're going out to fetch them in!Away, away, awa-a-ay!"
So long as he lived, the old mahout told of the intoxicating splendour ofthat young voice--the golden beauty of those tones; of how Mitha Babareached out further and further every stride, to its rhythm, till theearth rose up and the stars began to swing.
"We'll fetch them in, Mitha Baba, we'll fetch them in! . . . Away, away,awa-a-ay!"
But the toiler of wild elephants had remembered the game she loved.
As they topped the crest of a low hill, the Gul Moti scanned the countrydeclining before her toward the Nerbudda. A string of jewelsappeared--incredibly gorgeous in mid-day light. It was thirty-eightfull-caparisoned elephants--going fast. Mitha Baba called on them towait for her; but they remained in sight only a few minutes. The GulMoti's high courage sank; the caravan was too near the river to bedelayed by Mitha Baba's calls--the river too far ahead.
"Do they ever obey her, Laka Din?" the Gul Moti asked.
"They always used to," the old man replied dubiously.
Finally Mitha Baba came out into the straight descent toward the river.No elephants were in sight, but a blotch of colour showed on the bank.
"Well done for those mahouts!" the Gul Moti cried out in relief. "Thecaparisons at least are safe. How did they do it?"
"It was well done, Hakima-ji," the old man exulted. "The masters werelistening to Mitha Baba, delaying between her and the river--spaceof six breaths; then those men became like monkeys! It is noeasiness--unfastening everything from top of an elephant. (I who am oldhave done it!) Also, some went down to loosen underneath buckles. Youshall see."
They found four very disconsolate mahouts on the bank of the river besidethe great pile of nicely arranged stuff.
"I want the smallest howdah you have!" called the Gul Moti, as the mensprang in front of Mitha Baba.
"But, Hakima-ji," they protested, "by getting down--we were left behind!"
"I must not be left--and yet you must take these clothes from her!" theGul Moti said, while they helped the old man to the ground.
"Then go to her neck--oh, Thou Healer-without-fear! She will not waitlong--she follows Nut Kut, the demon! and Gunpat Rao, who both got awaywith everything on!"
Still hoping, the Gul Moti slipped over the edge of the big howdah andclimbed toward Mitha Baba's neck. The mahouts worked fast stripping her.Then Mitha Baba flung her head, striding away from their puny fingers,and plunged into the river. Sinking at first enough to wet the Gul Motia little, she rose beautifully as she found her swimming stroke.
Day went by--and no elephants in sight. Night came on--and no elephantsin sight. Mitha Baba rolled across the Nerbudda valley, as confident ofher way as if she travelled the great Highway-of-all-India. She began toclimb into the rising country beyond, as certain of her steps as if shewere coming in to her own stockades. The Gul Moti took up her callagain--thinking of the caravan they were following. But Mitha Baba wasnot thinking of the caravan. It had happened that the Gul Moti's toneshad fallen upon those intonations used in High Himalaya, to send thetoilers out to toil wild elephants in.
It was night-time, before the moon came up, when a strange elephantcrashed past them--lunging in the opposite direction. It reeled as itran and went down on its knees; evidently having been done to death in afight. But the outline of it, in the shadows, appeared too lean to beone of her own.
Soon after that, Mitha Baba trumpeted in a new tone of voice--one the GulMoti had never heard before. It sounded very wild, very desolate.
"In the name of all the gods, Mitha Baba, what's the meaning of that?"the Gul Moti enquired with a little tension--it being one of thosemoments when one gains assurance by speech.
But Mitha Baba's reply was in the very oldest language of India--one eventhe mahouts know only a very little of. It rose in wild, wistfultones--higher and higher. It was repeated from time to time; the senseof it strangely thrilling to the girl on her neck.
. . . They were well up in the mountains, so far that the trees hadbecome massive of body and heavy and dense of top--the moon only justshowing through--when they heard the trumpeting of elephants, off towardthe east. Mitha Baba answered at once, turning abruptly toward the east.
"Mitha Baba!" the Gul Moti protested, "our people have never gone off inthis direction--where are we, anyway?"
Mitha Baba's calling was just as wild as before; but it had become wildexultation.
. . . They were coming up into what reminded the Gul Moti of somethingshe had heard--that the really old jungle is always dark; that the lightof day never touches earth there. This was almost dark, the moonglinting through black shadows--only at intervals.
The sense of this place was strange. It might be on another planet. Andthat thought touched the root of the difference--this was not on, thiswas in. Everything felt in--deep in.
Here Mitha Baba changed her voice again. (Nothing had ever happened tothe Gul Moti like it.) It was still wild, still wistful--quite as muchso as before. But there was a cooing roll in it--away and away the mostenticing thing human ears ever listened to. It sounded likeNature--weaving all spells of all glamour, in tone; soft-flaming gold, intone; soft-flaming rose, in tone; and on and on--the very softest,deepest magics of life-perpetual!
. . . The trumpeting ahead was fuller and nearer, distinctly nearer;almost as if they were coming into it. Then, without warning, the mightymountain trees cut off the moon-lit sky. It had been dark before--now itwas utterly dark!
Suddenly t
he Gul Moti was aware of a strong earth-smell. There was nostench about. It had a quality of incense made of tree-gums andsandalwood and perfume-barks, all together. Then a dull thudding caughther ear--almost rhythmic.
. . . The earth-smells deepened and the thudding thickened. Mitha Babawas not climbing any more; moving smoothly, on what felt like firm soil,she seemed to turn and turn again. It was fathoms deep in raylessnight--the place that never knew the light of day!
Carlin clung tight to Mitha Baba's neck and remembered everything actual,everything definite, everything sound and sensible she knew. Theearth-smells filled her nostrils, her lungs, her blood; tree-gums,sandal-wood, perfume-bark, body-warmth--charging the air.
And over all--wild, and wistful, and pulsing-tender--the weaving of MithaBaba's enchantment through the dark.
The thudding all about her on the ground--must be the sound of many wildfeet! This must be--the "toiling in."
. . . A rending, tearing noise broke in on Mitha Baba's voice; and atonce a great crash among the trees, high up. (Someone had torn a saplingfrom its place and flung it far.)
. . . The keen squeal of a very little elephant--right near--and theangry protest of a strange voice. (Some mother's baby had been pinched,in the crowd!)
. . . It must be imagination--this strong nearness! The Gul Moti,putting out her hand, touched--skin! And within the same breath, on bothsides of Mitha Baba--first this side and then that side--two greatelephants challenged each other. They were both long, rocking blasts, alittle above and almost against the Gul Moti's quickened ears. Sheshivered under the shock.
Mitha Baba, without breaking her step, backed away from between them; andthe impact of frightful blow meeting frightful blow, bruised through theoutbreak of much trumpeting.
As Mitha Baba went further and further from the fighters, the Gul Motiwas amazed at the sounds of their meeting--like explosions. Sheremembered their tonnage; and recalled having heard that an elephantfight is not the sort of thing civilised men call sport.
. . . A soft, _feeling_ thing crept from the Gul Moti's shoulder alongdown her back! With convulsive fingers she clung tighter to Mitha Baba'sneck. Instantly Mitha Baba turned a bit, driving sidewise at thestranger with her head. The Gul Moti's confidence in the great female'sintention to protect her, was established!
At last, lifting her head sharply to utter a different call, Mitha Babadeveloped a peculiar drive in her motion; a queer drive in the whole hugebody that had something to do with a wide swinging of the head. It madethem both touch the strange elephants, every few minutes; and alwaysthere was a storm of trumpeting all about. Gradually these outbreaksbegan to sound toward one side; but the direction kept changing--so theGul Moti made out that Mitha Baba was moving round and round on theoutside of the mass.
After a while they came again into the vicinity where the big males werestill fighting. Mitha Baba rocked on her feet a moment, calling acurious low call--a question, softly spoken. At once there was the soundof rapid movement in front. Then Mitha Baba literally whirled--plungingaway at incredible speed--almost exactly in the opposite direction fromthe one she had been facing.
Doctor Carlin Deal Hantee tried to remember Skag--tried to remember herown name. She locked herself about that neck with her strength--sheclung with her might. She flattened her body and gripped with herfingers and with her toes--long since having kicked off her low shoes.Away and away they went, coming out into the moonlight--long enough tosee a mass of dun shadows rising and falling, lurching and rolling, onall sides. Surely the Gul Moti had known that this was a wild elephantherd--these hours. Surely the Gul Moti had heard the "toiling" of themin! But what was Mitha Baba going to do with them--now that she had them?
Down the long slopes and up the steep inclines--the two big elephantsclose on either side of Mitha Baba--plunging into khuds and outagain--most of the time up-ended, one way or the other, at astoundingangles--the wild herd raced with Mitha Baba toward whatever destinationshe might choose.
Dawn broke upon them while they were still in the very rugged hills; andas the mountain outlines cleared of mist, the Gul Moti saw that MithaBaba was leading her catch straight away back to Hurda. True to hertraining--there being no trap-stockades near--the toiler was taking themhome! The situation was absurd; but it roused the Gul Moti--like one outof a dream--to actual joy.
Through grey avenues of forest trees--rolling down khuds, ringing upcrags--the voice of Nut Kut went on out beyond the mountain peaks, tomeet approaching day. Nut Kut, the great black elephant who had beentrapped in these same Vindha Hills only a few years ago, was rejoicing infreedom again. Nut Kut, who had already made his reputation as the mostdeadly fighter known to the mahouts, was exulting in strength. It washis joy-song. It came from straight ahead. Mitha Baba answered with arollicking squeal. But the wild herd voices were savage--chaotic. NowNut Kut's challenge came back--looming. The situation was no longerabsurd.
It meant a fight--an open fight--between the wild herd and the caravan.The wild herd would never give Mitha Baba over to her own--they wouldsurely fight to keep her. Everything tightened in the Gul Moti andlocked--hard. She had known most of the caravan elephants all herlife--what would happen to them? They had lived among men these many andmany years--never permitted to fight--they could not be equallyfighting-fit. The herd would be much leaner--it must be much tougher.So she bruised her head and her heart between the things that were due tohappen to her caravan--horrible punishments and almost certain deaths.
When the caravan appeared, the males were leading; the four females wellin the rear. Nut Kut's flaming orange and imperial-blue trappingscovered and cumbered him; and young Gunpat Rao's gorgeous saffron andold-rose burned through the Gul Moti's eyes to the hard lump in herthroat--it was the one time in their lives when they should be free.
At once the wild females gathered their youngsters--and some who seemedalmost mature--cutting them out from the herd and driving them back.This revealed the wild fighters--many more in number than those of thecaravan. The approaching challenges, from both sides, were thunderingthick and fast now. The two bodies of elephants were plunging down theopposite sides of a deep khud and would meet in the broad bottom. MithaBaba--the big males on each side of her--was setting the pace for thisside, as if everything depended on time. But when they were quite close,she rushed ahead--straight through the caravan and beyond.
Mitha Baba had been leading her catch to her own stockades--being in nowise responsible that they were not trap-stockades! Now, the homeelephants having come to receive it, she had rushed it in--exactly as shewould have rushed it into a trap. But Mitha Baba was not satisfied.With a curious little call she wheeled, coming back to face the wild herdfrom her own side.
It was a turmoil that looked and sounded like nothing imaginable. Thefighting pairs were choosing each other and taking place. They hadplenty of room. When it was settled between them, Nut Kut was facing themost powerful-looking of the wild fighters; and Gunpat Rao, another wholooked almost as dangerous. The extra males of the wild herd--every oneformidable--were skirmishing about, watching for a chance to interfere.It looked bad for the caravan.
The mahouts--the Gul Moti had scarcely remembered them till now--werecalling back and forth about a bad one, a "tricky elephant." Followingtheir gestures, she saw a pale shape moving around in the open. Theyleft no doubt that he represented the worst of all danger. They werecharging each other to watch him--never mind what.
. . . The fight was on. Plainly--in every tone, every action--the wildwent in with wild enthusiasm, the tame with grave determination. MithaBaba, having come in closer than any of the other females, did notmove,--save for a constant turning of her head under the Gul Moti's icyfingers--seeming to keep an eye on all the separate fights at once.
Her fear for the caravan elephants was anguish, her fatigue extreme; butexcitement held the Gul Moti in a vise. She saw the fighters meet, skullto skull. (Those were the frightful blows she h
ad heard in the dark,through the trumpeting of a whole herd!) How could any living thingendure the impact of such weight? She looked to see the skin break awayand fall apart at once. She expected to see an elephant's head splitopen. It was nerve-wrecking--an arena of giant violence.
"Pray the gods to send Neela Deo!" one of the mahouts shouted.
"Pray the gods to send Neela Deo!" others called back.
The Gul Moti knew that Neela Deo did not fight; that it was hisleadership they needed. Soon she heard a muffled cry from the samemahout:
"Men of the Hills, mourn with me!"
(A low wind of tone replied.)
His elephant seemed slower than the one against him; slower in gettingback--in coming on. . . . Now he was wavering--shaken through his wholebulk by every meeting. . . . He was not running--he was dazed--he wasdown! Staring wide-eyed at the horror--the way a barbarian elephantkills--the Gul Moti was glad Skag did not see! . . . The mahout hadmanaged to reach a tree in time to save his own life and was crouching ona branch, with his head buried in his arms.
Nut Kut was finishing with the leader of the wild herd--more mercifullythan the wild was of doing it--when two of the extras charged himtogether. Ram Yaksahn, his mahout--whose voice had not been heardbefore--cried out; and Mitha Baba went in like a thunder-bolt. How ithappened no one could tell, but one of the wild elephants--before MithaBaba's rush, or in the instant when she reached him--caught his tuskunder Nut Kut's side-bands. They were made of heavy canvas, with chainson top. As Mitha Baba drove at him and Nut Kut turned--his tusk rippedout sidewise. With a frantic scream he got away, running up into thejungle--still screaming so far as they could hear.
The Gul Moti, numb with weariness, had held on with her last ounce ofstrength. Now she sat amazed at her escape--while a tumult of trumpetingshattered the air about her. There was disturbance among the fightingpairs; some staying with each other, some changing--running to andfro--charging at odd angles. But when the confusion cleared--more freshones had come in!
Now Nut Kut was a whirl-wind--he was unbelievable. One broke away fromhim and ran--demoralised. One died--fairly defeated. Still others cameto meet him; yet his challenges were triumphant to the point of frenzy.
"Call on the gods! The devil is in!" rang out.
Gunpat Rao was now fighting for his life. The "tricky elephant" hadcharged him from the open. This was the bad one whom the mahouts hadrecognised on sight--had feared from the beginning. Gunpat Rao was oneof the finest young elephants in captivity; one of the swiftest in thecaravan; but the mahouts knew he could not think a trick! The sense ofhis danger swept them.
The Gul Moti knew that "white elephants" are always feared--being almostalways bad. This one was not white; nor grey, nor yellow. He waswhitish-grey--dull-tawny overcast--unclean looking. He was larger inframe than Gunpat Rao; but very lean--long, loose-jointed. He moved likea suckling trying to caper. But there was a rakish look about him.
In spite of all their own stress--every one of their elephants being insome degree of jeopardy--the mahouts gave as much attention to Gunpat Raoas they could. It was foregone conclusion--he was doomed. Bracingthemselves to witness his defeat, expecting to see his bitter death inthe end, yet the bad one's method at the start maddened them beyondcontrol.
"He was bred in the Pit!" one mahout called.
"His father was Depravity!" another called back.
And they cursed him with the curses of the Hills.
Chakkra, who was Gunpat Rao's mahout, was a plucky little man; but hisface had gone old.
The pale one's behaviour was entirely different from any the Gul Moti hadseen. He was doing nothing regular--not using the common methods at all.He was giving Gunpat Rao no chance to get back--to put his body-weightinto his drive. He was staying too close. He was circling--starting torush in and veering away--round and round, in and out. Then the Gul Motisaw! He was manoeuvring to strike Gunpat Rao back of his ear! He wastrying to "hit below the belt!"
So Gunpat Rao was kept pivoting in his own tracks to face the danger,with scant room to meet a rush when it came. And always it came whenleast suggested by the other's manner. Then the pale one squealed--asuccession of thin, cutting tones--and Gunpat Rao answered with a charge.The pale one raced away from him, wheeling suddenly and coming in behindhis head. (An instant before, it looked as if they would meet fairly.)But Gunpat Rao, being in full drive and not on guard against such amanoeuvre, could not stop quickly; yet he swerved just enough to clearthat yellow tusk--with a long slash in his flank! . . . Gunpat Rao beganto show that he was baffled. His trunk came around--feeling of Chakkra!
"He wants Neela Deo! His heart is alone!" Chakkra cried out.
"Pray the gods to send Neela Deo!" the mahouts answered together.
And from the khud-wall behind them, a thundering challenge rolled down.It was like an avalanche of dynamic power.
Now the elephants of the Chief Commissioner's stockades gave account ofthemselves. Youth had returned to them--courage had been restored. Theyclamoured to heaven that they were doing well. They shouted to theuniverse that they belonged to him--to Neela Deo, their King!
Sanford Hantee scarcely saw--an impossible thing--Carlin on Mitha Baba'sneck! Her face was actually strange--the awful pallor--the fire. Itleft his brain a blank to other impressions, for minutes.
The Gul Moti only glimpsed the stone-white face of her American, besidethe Chief Commissioner, as Neela Deo charged past, on his way to takeover the fight that was taxing Gunpat Rao to the last breath beforedefeat. Neela Deo had seen at once where he was needed most. He went inwith a charging challenge that was intoxication to those who heard--allthe assurance of ancient mastership in it.
No one had ever seen Neela Deo fight before. Kudrat Sharif was soastonished that he barely got back from his neck in time to be out of theway. The mahouts were amazed--Neela Deo did not fight! Neela Deo wasthe Lord of peaceful rule!
Many of the fighting pairs broke away from each other, when they heardNeela Deo's charging challenge, as if agreeing that the destiny of allhung on the issue of his contest. This left most of the mahouts free towatch. With passionate distress they saw the King--wounded almost todeath less than four months since--carrying a heavy howdah and threemen--going in to fight with a bad elephant who was all but fresh. Theycursed the wild elephant with every inward breath, seeing as little hopefor Neela Deo as they had seen for Gunpat Rao.
The Gul Moti watched--appalled. It seemed to her that the pale one hadbeen playing--before he engaged with Neela Deo. But he did not play anymore. He manoeuvred so fast that his body appeared to glance in and out.But Neela Deo foiled him with still greater speed. Her eye could notfollow all--the maze, the glamour, the incredible spectacle.
Neela Deo's first blow had shaken the pale one, carrying a differentdimension of force from any in himself. He gave way--backing from itwith an angry scream, showing surprise and rage in every movement. Whenhe circled round, trying to get in on Neela Deo's side, the King was tooquick for him--forcing him out, forcing him further out; not permittinghim to follow his chosen course, whatever direction he took. He came inwith his peculiar art of approaches--the jarring blow was there! Heplayed all his lightning feints--the shock that rocked him was a flashquicker! Neela Deo met him squarely, whatever curve he made--whatevertangent he turned upon. This, every time, in spite of himself; for healways meant to avoid that crash!
He tried his falsetto squeals--all aggravation in them. But Neela Deorefused to accept taunts. This caused an instant's pause--the pale oneseeming to consider. Then he raced away and came back on a full drive,as if meaning to meet the King in a legitimate encounter--after all. ButNeela Deo only lowered his head a fraction, leaning a bit forward; andthe pale one, instead of finishing straight, or passing alongside closeenough to strike--swerved out. This was the moment when Neela Deocharged him and he ran, dodging--far beyond the range of the fightingarena--down the khud valley. Everyone followe
d; the wild elephantsrunning by themselves--screaming in harsh tones; the caravan--trumpetingin clear, full tones; the mahouts, calling the name of the King--besidethemselves with delight.
But Neela Deo was at the pale one's heels--his tusks not dangerous,having been shortened and banded. Yet they were sharp enough to make thepale one turn and defend himself. And desperately he fought, using everyfaculty of his nature--every value of his wild fitness. Still the crookin him showed. It was all faster now than in the beginning, but he wasnot exhausted, he was not broken; only a bit less certain, a breath lessquick, when he tried the same old trick--to get in back of Neela Deo'sear. And it was on that false turn that Neela Deo caught him fairly inthe throat--caught him and finished him in one thrust--with the bluntpoint of a banded tusk. (That was the miracle of it all--the bandedtusk!)
Then Neela Deo stood back, put up his trunk and uttered a long, strongblast. They were ringing tones--mounting clarion tones, with tremendousvolume at the top. They were the King's proclamation of victory.
The mahouts answered him in High Himalayan voices--full of unleasheddevotion. The caravan made announcement of that allegiance the heart ofan elephant gives--sometimes. But the wild herd broke away and ranshrieking up into the Vindha Hills.
Coming down from Mitha Baba's neck between Skag's hands, the Gul Motismiled into his anguished eyes.
"Carlin! Are you--safe?" he asked.
"Safe--now!" she answered.
The tone of that low "now" startled him.
"Where have you been?" he breathed.
"Far--" she said, "very far!"
"But where?" he questioned.
"It was not in _our_ world, Skag," she said. "It was--dark!"
The Chief Commissioner had come close, to hear; was stroking hershoulder, in fact--in an absent-minded way--shaking his head.
"You can't mean--_the dark_?" he broke in.
"I mean it was utterly dark, sir," she said. "It was absolutely dark!"
"But--I'm not able to understand!" her old friend protested.
"It was there Mitha Baba found them," the Gul Moti explained. "It wasthere she did the '_toiling in_.' Then, she was leading them home toHurda, when we met the caravan--at dawn."
Some of the mahouts had gathered about. The Chief Commissioner spoke tothem in their speech and they answered him--calling others. Soon the menof High Himalaya drew near with grave deference, slowly stooping to touchthe ground at her feet.
"No human has ever been in _that_ before," said Kudrat Sharif. "We willprepare rest for her--Chosen-of-Vishnu, the Great Preserver!"
It was after they had cared for the Gul Moti with the best theyhad--water from a mountain stream and food Neela Deo had carried, in ashelter made of tender deodar tips, where she now slept on a bed made ofthe same--that the mahouts told the Chief Commissioner and Skag, all theythemselves had seen.
By this time concern had spread from Hurda throughout the country. NeelaDeo had gone out to find the Gul Moti, carrying the Chief Commissionerand Son of Power. No one had come back. Calamity must have fallen. Menwent out on horses to trace them. But it was certain priests of Hanumanwho found the caravan first. (The Gul Moti having saved the life of amonkey king once, her safety was their concern also.) Without being seenor heard themselves, they went close enough to learn that she was makingrecovery from great exhaustion; and that the mahouts were caring for anelephant unable to travel by reason of a bad wound. They overheard talkof strange happenings; but more about Neela Deo's undreamed-ofachievement.
Before any of the searchers from Hurda reached the caravan, mysteriousgifts of provisions--much needed--were found by the mahouts, with a crudewriting beside them: "For the Healer-without-fear." And those samepriests of Hanuman--preparing a signal-system as they came--brought thegood word back to the anxious people, who became joyous at once. TheirGul Moti was safe! Neela Deo was safe--everyone was safe. (But that wasa strange saying--that Neela Deo had fought!)
Bonfires blazed up in every village within sight of the caravan's wayhome--from so far away as watchers on Hurda's highest hill couldsee--burning night and day. At last the one furthest from Hurda wentout. The watchers raced in--Neela Deo's caravan was coming! One by one,the bonfires went out--till it was this side the Nerbudda. Then thepeople made ready.
They thronged out the great Highway-of-all-India, meeting the caravanwhere the slow-moving elephants turned in from open jungle. Eagerlystriving to see the Gul Moti's face, eagerly pointing at Neela Deo, yetit was a stranger silent multitude. Only many tears on many tears showedtheir feeling.
The Gul Moti sat in Neela Deo's howdah, with the Chief Commissioner andSon-of-Power. Two men came close, carrying a long slender shape coveredwith pure white cloth--dripping wet.
"We be poor men," one said, "but our hands bring to thee, oh Healer--fromthe people of Hurda, oh Healer--" and breaking off, because his lipscould speak no more, he stooped reverently to lay aside the covering.
A great folded leaf appeared; a long heavy stalk; then the flawlesssplendour of one bloom--immaculate! a sacred lotus, brought from farlakes. The Gul Moti received its ineffable loveliness and rose tostretch her fingers toward the multitude. Then their shouts swept thehorizon.
Still, their concept of Neela Deo's character must be either shattered orrestored--and soon; they would not wait. Ominously quiet questions wentup to the mahouts; and the mahouts were full-ready to answer! In theend, it sounded like a wild Himalayan chant about Neela Deo's great fightto save Gunpat Rao. The people listened patiently, till an inwardmeaning enlightened them. Then they exulted:
"Neela Deo, Neela Deo, King of all elephants!"
"Exalted in majesty, Defender of honour, protecting his own withstrength! We will remember him!"
"Neela Deo, Neela Deo, King of all elephants!"
"He with the wisdom of ages. Destroyer of devastators, preserving hisfriend with blood! Our children shall not forget!"
"He the Discerner of men, Equitable King! He the Discerner of evil,Invincible King! All generations after us shall hear of him; but we havelooked upon his face!"
"Neela Deo, Neela Deo, King of all elephants!"