Chunder tried all he could to stop it; but it was of no use, for Harry had got such influence over that animal, that when one day he was coaxing him out to lead him under some trees, and the mahout tried to stop him, Nabob makes no more ado, but lifts his great soft trunk, and rolls Mr Chunder Chow over into the grass, where he lay screeching like a parrot, and chattering like a monkey, rolling his opal eyeballs, and showing his white teeth with fear; for he expected that Nabob was going to put his foot on him and crush him to death, as is the nature of those great beasts. But not he; he only lays his trunk gently on Harry's shoulder, and follows him across the open like a great flesh-mountain, winking his little pig's eyes, whisking his tiny tail, and flapping his great ears; while the children clapped their hands as they stood in the shade with Miss Ross and Lizzy, and Captain Dyer and Lieutenant Leigh close behind. "There's no call to be afraid, miss," says Harry, saluting as he saw Miss Ross shrink back; and seeing how, when he said a few words in Hindustani, the great animal minded him, they stopped being afraid, and gave Harry fruit and cakes with which to feed the great beast. You see, out there in that great dull place, people are very glad to have any little trifle to amuse them; so you mustn't be surprised to hear that there used to be quite a crowd to see Harry Lant's performances, as he called them. But all the same, I didn't like his upsetting old Chunder Chow; and it seemed to me, even then, that we'd managed to make another black enemy--the black ayah being the first. However, Harry used to go on making old Nabob kneel down, or shake hands, or curl up his trunk, or lift him up, finishing off by going up to his head, lifting one great ear, saying they understood one another, whispering a few words, and then shutting the ear up again, so as the words shouldn't be lost before they got into the elephant's brain, as Harry explained, because they'd got a long way to go. Then Harry would lie down, and let the great beast walk backwards and forwards all over him, lifting his great feet so carefully, and setting them down close to Harry, but never touching him, except one day when, just as the great beast was passing his foot over Harry's breast, a voice called out something in Hindustani--and I knew who it was, though I didn't see-- when Nabob puts his foot down on Harry's chest, and Lizzy gave a loud scream, and we all thought the poor chap would be crushed; but not he: the great beast was took by surprise, but only for an instant; and in his slow quiet way he steps aside, and then touches Harry all over with his trunk; and there was no more performance that day. "I've got my knife into Master Chunder for that," says Harry to me; "for I'll swear that was his voice." And I started to find he had known it. "I wouldn't quarrel with him," I says quietly; "for it strikes me he's got his knife into you."