All this he explained to his fair companion, and she readily acquiesced. "The only problem to be solved, then, is where to find a mahout," he said in conclusion. She threw him an inquiring glance; but he felt it was asking too much, and said so. "If it were any other country, I'd ride the beast myself to oblige you; but in England, and as a representative of one of the first families of the county, I couldn't. The prejudices of the locality would never recover from the shock, and I should not be able to show my face in the streets of Salisbury. But perhaps we can find a substitute. Is there any one here," he went on, addressing the little group of men, "who understands an elephant?" "Tom, 'e knows the bloomin' beasts," said a member of the company; and Tom, groom to her ladyship, and cockney every inch of him, was pushed forward for inspection. One glance at the trim form, concealed though it was by stable costume, was sufficient to assure Scarsdale that he had found his man. "You have been a soldier," he said, "and in India?" "Yes, sir," replied the man, touching the peak of his cap in a military salute. "Do you think you could manage him?" continued Scarsdale, indicating the elephant, which, wearied with the morning's exertions, had knelt down, and seemed on the point of taking a nap. "Do I think as 'ow I could manage 'im? I should 'ope so, if I ain't fergot is 'eathen language, sir." "I'll give you eighteen pence a mile," said Scarsdale, quick to act on the man's decision. "Make it two bob, sir, an' I'll ride 'im ter Inja." "That's too far," he replied, laughing; "my pocket wouldn't stand the strain; but I'll give you the price to Christchurch." "Right you are," replied the hostler, closing the bargain at once. "Me name's Tom Ropes. What d'yer call 'im, sir?" pointing to his recumbent charge. "I don't know what he was christened. I call him Jehoshaphat." "A Christian name fer a 'eathen brute," commented Tom. "Give me a leg up, one er yer." Once astride the beast's neck, with Scarsdale's cane as an improvised ankus, he poured out a flood of cockney-Indian jargon which no Hindoo could ever have recognised as his native tongue, but which evidently had a familiar sound to the elephant, who proceeded to rise, first with his fore feet and then with his hind feet; after which his novel mahout, who throughout these manoeuvres had retained a precarious hold by one ear, hastened to seat himself more firmly upon him. "All right?" queried Scarsdale, looking up; and on receiving an answer in the affirmative, added: "Keep your feet well under his ears, and hit him on the head with your stick if he gets fractious. All you need do is to follow our carriage. Trust to his judgment about bridges; he knows what will hold him."