“It’s all right, old boy,” said the Major to him.  “The brute is done for.”

The elephant understood and came to him.  Dermot patted the quivering trunk outstretched to smell the dead snake and then went forward and grasped the hamadryad’s tail with both hands, striving to hold it still.  But it dragged him from side to side and the writhing coils of the headless body nearly enfolded him, so he let go and stepped back.  As well as he could judge the king-cobra was more than seventeen feet long.

It took some time to reassure Badshah, for the elephant was badly frightened and, when Dermot mounted him, set off from the spot with a haste unlike his usual deliberate pace.

* * * * *

For a week after this occurrence the Major was busy in his bungalow in Ranga Duar drawing up reports for the Adjutant General and amplifying existing maps of the borderland, as well as completing his large-scale sketches of the passes.  When his task was finished he filled his haversack with provisions one morning and, shouldering his rifle, descended the winding mountain road to the peelkhana.  Long before this was visible through the trees of the foothills he was apprised by the trumpeting of the elephants and the loud shouts of men that there was trouble there.  When he came out on the cleared stretch of ground in front of the stables he saw mahouts and coolies fleeing in terror in all directions, while the stoutly built peelkhana itself rocked violently as though shaken by an earthquake.

Then forth from it, to the accompaniment of terrified squealing and trumpeting from the female elephants, Badshah stalked, ears cocked and tail up and the light of battle in his eyes, broken iron shackles dangling from his legs.

“Dewand hoyga (he has gone mad),” cried the attendants, fleeing past the Major in such alarm that they almost failed to notice him.  Last of all came Ramnath, who, recognising him, halted and salaamed.

“Khubbadar (take care), sahib!” he cried in warning.  “The fit is on him again.  The jungle calls him.  He is mad.”

Dermot paid no attention to him but hastened on to intercept the elephant which stalked on with ears thrust forward and tail raised, ready to give battle to any one that dared stop him.

The Major whistled.  Badshah checked in his stride, then as a well-known voice fell on his ear he faltered and looked about him.  Dermot spoke his name and the elephant turned and went straight to him, to the amazement of the peelkhana attendants watching from behind trees on the hillside.  Yet they feared lest his intention was to attack the sahib, for when a tame tusker is seized with a fit of madness, it often kills even its mahout, to whom ordinarily it is much attached.

Dermot raised his hand.  Badshah stopped and sank on his knees, while his master cast off the broken shackles and swung himself astride of his neck.  Then the elephant rose again and of his own volition rolled swiftly forward into the jungle which closed around them and hid animal and man from the astounded watchers.