“Call up your beast,” said the planter, and Deesa shouted in the mysterious elephant-language, that some mahouts believe came from China at the birth of the world, when elephants and not men were masters. Moti Guj heard and came. Elephants do not gallop. They move from spots at varying rates of speed. If an elephant wished to catch an express train he could not gallop, but he could catch the train. Thus Moti Guj was at the planter’s door almost before Chihun noticed that he had left his pickets. He fell into Deesa’s arms trumpeting with joy, and the man and beast wept and slobbered over each other, and handled each other from head to heel to see that no harm had befallen. “Now we will get to work,” said Deesa. “Lift me up, my son and my joy.” Moti Guj swung him up, and the two went to the coffee-clearing to look for irksome stumps. The planter was too astonished to be very angry. WITHOUT BENEFIT OF CLERGY Before my Spring I garnered Autumn’s gain, Out of her time my field was white with grain, The year gave up her secrets to my woe. Forced and deflowered each sick season lay, In mystery of increase and decay; I saw the sunset ere men saw the day, Who am too wise in that I should not know. _Bitter Waters._ I “But if it be a girl?” “Lord of my life, it cannot be. I have prayed for so many nights, and sent gifts to Sheikh Badl’s shrine so often, that I know God will give us a son—a man-child that shall grow into a man. Think of this and be glad. My mother shall be his mother till I can take him again, and the mullah of the Pattan mosque shall cast his nativity—God send he be born in an auspicious hour!—and then, and then thou wilt never weary of me, thy slave.” “Since when hast thou been a slave, my queen?” “Since the beginning—till this mercy came to me. How could I be sure of thy love when I knew that I had been bought with silver?” “Nay, that was the dowry. I paid it to thy mother.” “And she has buried it, and sits upon it all day long like a hen. What talk is yours of dower! I was bought as though I had been a Lucknow dancing-girl instead of a child.” “Art thou sorry for the sale?” “I have sorrowed; but to-day I am glad. Thou wilt never cease to love me now?—answer, my king.” “Never—never. No.” “Not even though the _mem-log_—the white women of thy own blood—love thee? And remember, I have watched them driving in the evening; they are very fair.” “I have seen fire-balloons by the hundred. I have seen the moon, and—then I saw no more fire-balloons.” Ameera clapped her hands and laughed. “Very good talk,” she said. Then with an assumption of great stateliness, “It is enough. Thou hast my permission to depart,—if thou wilt.”