Son of Power Part 33

"Not ever!" the boy answered quickly, "but even if he doesn't come--they almost always do something interesting. That's why we never call them animals or beasts, but sometimes creatures--because they have a kind of intelligence we have not. And that's why we _always_ speak of them as persons."

"I like that," Skag put in.

"From end to end of India," the boy went on, "down Bombay side and up Calcutta side, regiments of elephants go with regiments of men--in the never-ending fatigue marching that keeps them all fit.

"The tenting and commissariat-stuff is carried by the elephants, straight from camp to camp, safe and sure and in proper time--always.

That's the point, you understand, Skag Sahib--they never run away with it, or lose it, or go aside into the jungle to eat. You're going to see one regiment start out to-day.

"The man-regiment will go another road--a little longer, but not so rough. The elephant regiment will go by themselves, just one mahout on each neck--like you would carry a mouse. Really, they go on their own honour; because men have no power to control them--only with their voices. You know Government doesn't permit elephants to be shot, for anything--only in case one is court-martialled and sentenced to die."

"Don't the mahouts ever punish them?" Skag asked.

"They're not allowed to torture them--never mind what! And men can't punish elephants any other way--they're not big enough."

Then a voice rolled out of the dust-glamour before them. In quality and reach and power, it reminded Skag of a marvel voice that used to call newspapers in the big railway station in Chicago.

"Whose voice?" he asked Horace.

"That's the master-mahout. He calls the elephants; you'll see. He's the only kind of mahout who ever gets pay for himself."

"How's that?"

"It's what makes the elephant-military a proper department. Only elephant names on the books; the pay goes to them. The mahout is always an elephant's servant; he eats from his master, of course. From the outside it saves a lot of trouble, to be sure."

Skag laughed. From the elephant standpoint, a small Englishman was conceding a certain amount of convenience to men.

"You see," the boy went on, "an elephant lives anyway more than a hundred years; and his name stays just like that and draws pay without changing. Always a mahout's son takes his place, when he gets too old or dies. I can recall when Mitha Baba's mahout was one of the most wonderful of them all. Now he has gone old, as they say; and his son is on her neck."

There was a moment when Skag would have given his soul--almost--if he might have grown up in India, as this child was growing up; in the heart of her ancient knowledges--in the breath of her mystic power.

Then a great plain opened before them. It appeared at first glance, completely full of elephants.

. . . The glamour of sun-drenched dust hung over all.

Looking more closely, Skag saw nothing but elephant ranks toward the right, and nothing but elephant ranks toward the left; but in the centre, a large area was covered with separate piles of dunnage, evenly distributed.

From where he stood toward where the sun would set--a broad division stretched; and in the middle of this division, a single line of loaded elephants filed away and away to the horizon.

. . . Skag became oblivious. He was so thralled with the sight that he did not notice what was nearer. The whole panorama held his breath till right before him a great creature rose from sitting--without a sound. There was a dignity about its movement not less than majestic.

It was a mighty load; but the huge shape slid away as smooth as flowing water--as easy as a drifting cloud.

A deep voice said quietly:

"Peace, master; go thy way. Peace, son."

"Did he speak to both of them?" Skag asked of Horace.

"Yes; the first part was to the elephant and the last part was to the mahout. This mahout must be one of the great ones, else the master-mahout would not have spoken to him. But he will always speak to the elephants--something."

A strange name filled the air, rolling up and away. It was followed by a courteous request, in softer tones; and Skag watched another big elephant approach from the unpicketed lines. It came to where the master-mahout stood, close to a pile of tenting, wheeled to face the way it should go presently, and sank down to be loaded.

Men did the lifting into place and the las.h.i.+ng on. There was detail in the process, to which the elephant adjusted his body as intelligently as they adjusted theirs. When they required to reach under with the broad canvas bands, he rose a little without being told. Indeed they seldom spoke even to each other; and then in undertones. The elephant's mahout sat in his place on the neck, as if he were a part of the neck itself.

The smoothness, the ease of it all, amazed Skag. That every good night, spoken to every separate elephant, was different--peculiar to itself--was no less astounding. It was never as if addressed to an animal, or even to a child; but always as if to a mature and understanding intelligence. As when the master-mahout said to one female:

"Fortune to thee, great Lady. May the G.o.ds guard that foot. And have a care in going down the khuds--it is that mercy should be shown us, thy friends."

And again to a young male, whose movements were very self-conscious:

"Remember there is to be no tamasha to-night, thou son of destiny. It is not yet in thy head--to determine when shall be tamasha. Fifty years hence, and when wisdom shall be come to thee, thou heir of ancient learning, then we shall have tamasha at thy bidding."

. . . A monster female came at the call of her name, with a long heavy chain--one end securely attached to her. The other end she handled with her trunk. Advancing to within a few feet of the master-mahout, she stood facing him, teetering her whole body from side to side, swinging her chain as she rolled.

Horace flashed away and ran in among the ma.s.sed elephants and mahouts.

Coming back to Skag, he said breathlessly:

"A mahout says the other one went before we came! That means, if Nut Kut comes--there'll be no one to manage him. You remember, Skag Sahib, I told you about the 'mother-thing'--if anyone starts a fight, she breaks it up with her chain; better than any two or three fighting males. Two tuskers just wake Nut Kut up!"

Then he stood staring at the female with her chain--getting red in the face as he spoke:

"Oh, I say! She doesn't want to be loaded; and she knows! Why, they know she knows! . . . Master-mahout!" he called in brave tones that trembled, "I am d.i.c.kson Sahib's son--of the grain-foods department--"

"We know you, Sahib, salaam!" interrupted the master-mahout, with a smile.

"Is it not the unwritten-law that the great 'mother-thing' shall be obeyed?" the boy quavered.

"It is the unwritten-law, Sahib; and we will not impose our will on her. It is this, there is no sign of what she means; the masters are all quiet to-day--there is no warning of _tamasha_."

The master-mahout spoke with grave consideration; but just as he finished, the "mother-thing" wheeled into place and went down to take her load.

"Cheer up, son, I guess it's all right," comforted Skag.

"It's all right--if Nut Kut doesn't come," said the boy, whimsically.

"So 'tamasha' sometimes means trouble?" queried Skag, remembering the tamer definition he had learned.

"It means anything anybody considers entertaining!" answered Horace.

"By preference--an elephant fight! Remember, Government doesn't allow 'em; but sometimes they just happen anyway."

Then an elephant failed to answer. Several mahouts left their places and went to one spot; and Skag saw the one who had been called. He was sitting low against the ground, slowly rocking his head from side to side. A mahout was examining his ears--folding them back and feeling of them--laying his cheek against the inside surface.

"Is he sick?" Skag asked.

But the boy's eyes were wide upon the broad avenue before them, where the loaded elephants went marching away. Then he burst out, in choking excitement:

"Look, Skag Sahib! See that loaded elephant coming back from the line?

I think you are going to see one of the most wonderful things that ever happened. They say it has been done; but I've never seen it--I've never seen it myself."

Skag saw a powerful elephant coming back alongside the loaded line. He did not move with the same smooth flowing motion as the others. He walked as if he were coming on important business. With a load on his back, he returned and sank down beside the pile of tenting intended for another elephant.