"Well, I want to start at daybreak to search the scene of the attack on us and the place where I came on the Bhuttias. Will some of you fellows come with me?" "Rather. We'll all go," was the shout from all at the table. "Thanks. We may round up some of the survivors." "I say, Major, would you tell us a thing that's puzzled me, and I daresay more than me?" ventured a young assistant manager, voicing the thoughts of others present. "How the deuce did those wild elephants happen to turn up just in the nick of time for you?" "They were probably close by and the firing disturbed them," was the careless answer. "H'm; very curious, wasn't it, Major?" said Granger. "You know the habits of the _jungli hathi_ better than most other people. Wouldn't they be far more likely to run away from the firing than right into it?" "As a rule. But when wild elephants stampede in a panic they'll go through anything." The assistant manager was persistent. "But how did your elephant chance to join up with them?" he asked. "Judging by the look of him he took a very prominent part in clearing your enemies off." "Oh, Badshah is a fighter. I daresay if there was a scrap anywhere near him he'd like to be in it," replied Dermot lightly, and tried to change the conversation. But the others insisted on keeping to the subject. They had all been curious as to the truth of the stories about Dermot's supposed miraculous power over wild elephants, but no one had ever ventured to question him on the subject before. "I suppose you know, Major, that the natives have some wonderful tales about Badshah?" said a planter. "Yes; and of you, too, sir," said the young assistant manager. "They think you both some special brand of gods." "I'm not surprised," said the Major with assumed carelessness. "They're ready to deify anything. They will see a god in a stone or a tree. You know they looked on the famous John Nicholson during the Mutiny as a god, and made a cult of him. There are still men who worship him." "They're prepared to do that to you, Major," said Granger frankly. "Barrett is quite right. They call you the Elephant God." Dermot laughed and stood up. "Oh, natives will believe anything," he said. "If you'll excuse me now, Daleham, I'll turn in--or rather, turn out. I'd like to get some sleep, for we've an early start before us." "Yes, we'd better all do the same," said Granger, rising too. "How are you going to bed us all down, Daleham? Bit of a job, isn't it?" "We'll manage all right," replied the young host. "I told the servants to spread all the mattresses and charpoys that they could raise anywhere out on the verandah and in the spare rooms. I'm short of mosquito curtains, though. Some of you will get badly bitten tonight." "I'll go to old Parr's bungalow and steal his," said Granger. "He's too drunk to feel any 'skeeter biting him." "I pity the mosquito that does," joined in a young planter laughing. "The poor insect would die of alcoholic poisoning."