Nevertheless I remained incredulous. I went over to the bungalow and brought out a loaf, to the extreme consternation of our khansamah--we being forty miles from the nearest bazaar bakery--this I broke in two pieces, and presented it to Shere Bahadur, who seized it ravenously. Of course it was a mere crumb, and the wrinkled eager trunk was piteously held out for more; but more I dared not give, for I was in these days entirely under the yoke of my domestics! I related my little adventure during dinner--small episodes become great ones in the jungle, where we had no news, no dâk. Afterwards we took our usual stroll in the moonlight, and Charlie and I went to visit my new acquaintance. He was alone. The mahout was away, probably smoking at a panchayet in the nearest village. In a short time we were joined by Tom, who, as he came up, exclaimed-- “By Jove, he _is_ thin! I’ve just been hearing all about the beast from the shikarri; he knows him well. He was a magnificent fellow in his day. The rajah has not the heart to feed him in his old age, and turns him out to pick up a living, or starve--whichever he likes. _He_ is not going to pay for his keep, and so the poor brute is dying by inches. Every now and then, when there is a ‘tamasha,’ he is sent for--for a rajah without elephants is like a society woman without diamonds.” “And the twelve chupatties, and spices, and sugar?” I exclaimed. “All moonshine!” was the laconic reply. I thought a great deal of that miserable famishing animal. He preyed on my mind, in the watches of the night: I could hear him through the open window, moving restlessly among the bushes. I was sorely tempted to rise and steal my own loaves, and give him every crumb in the larder! Next morning I boldly commanded four enormous cakes to be made, and took them to him myself. He seemed to know me, and swallowed them down with wolfish avidity. When we were fishing that same evening I noticed the elephant down in the shallows of the river, standing knee-deep in the rushes; his figure, in profile against the orange sunset, looked exactly like the arch of a bridge, so wasted was he. In the course of a day or two we had firmly cemented our acquaintance. Shere Bahadur came up to the verandah for sugar-cane and bread, and salaamed to me ostentatiously whenever we met. “As we are feeding the beast, we may as well make use of him,” remarked Tom, one morning. “The mahout declares that the rajah will let us have him for his keep, and his own wages--six rupees a month. We can have a howdah, and the elephant will be very useful when we get among the long grass and the deer.” “Yes, do let us have him,” I gladly agreed. I could not endure to leave him behind, to return to his ration of neem leaves and semi-starvation. Tom therefore despatched a “chit” by the mahout to the rajah, and the next day Shere Bahadur came shuffling back, carrying a howdah and his owner’s sanction, also a paper which Tom was requested to sign.