"Good Heavens! what's this? The elephant's tusk is covered with blood." "Tusk! Why, he's blood to the eyes," exclaimed another. For the leaping flames revealed the fact that Badshah's tusk, trunk, and legs were covered with freshly-dried blood. "Good Heavens! he's been wading in it." "What's that on his tusk? Why, it's fragments of flesh. Oh, the deuce!" There were exclamations of surprise and horror from the white men. But the mass of coolies, who had been pressing forward to stare, drew back into the darkness and muttered to each other. "The god! The god! Who can withstand the god?" they whispered. "_Arhé, bhai_! (Aye, brother!) But which is the god? The elephant or his rider? Tell me that!" exclaimed a grey-haired coolie. Among the Europeans the questions showered on Dermot redoubled. "Look here, you fellows. I can't answer you all at once," he expostulated. "It's a long story. But please remember that Miss Daleham has had a tiring day and must be worn out." "Oh, no, I'm not," exclaimed the girl. "Not now. I was fatigued, but I'm too excited to rest yet." "Come into the bungalow everyone and we'll have the whole story there," said her brother. "The servants will get supper ready for us. We must celebrate tonight." "Indeed, yes. Look you, it shall be very wet tonight in Malpura, whateffer," cried Parry, who was already half drunk. "Here, boy! Boy! Where is that damned black beastie of mine? Boy!" His _khitmagar_ disengaged himself from the group of servants and approached apprehensively, keeping out of reach of his master's fist. "Go to the house," said Parry to him in Bengali. "Bring liquor here. All the liquor I have. Hurry, you dog!" He aimed a blow at him, which the _khitmagar_ dodged with the ease of long practice and ran to execute his master's bidding. Daleham gave directions to his butler and cook to prepare supper, and led the way into the house with his arm round his sister, who, woman-like, escaped to change her dress and make herself presentable, as she put it. She had already forgotten the fatigues of the day in the hearty welcome and the joy of her safe home-coming. But before Dermot entered the bungalow he had water brought and washed from Badshah's head and legs the evidences of the terrible vengeance that he had taken upon their assailants. And from the verandah the planters looked at animal and master and commented in low tones on the strange tales told of both, for the reputation of mysterious power that they enjoyed with natives had reached every white man of the district. The crowd of coolies drifted away to their village on the tea-garden, and there throughout the hot night hours the groups sat on the ground outside the thatched bamboo huts and talked of the animal and the man. "It is not well to cross this sahib who is not as other sahibs," said a coolie, shaking his head solemnly. "Sahib, say you? Is he only a sahib?" asked an old man. "Is he truly of the _gora logue_ (white folk)?"