only murder in its savage
heart--and Carlin's name was his very breath in that peril, something
of her spirit like a whisper from within his own heart.

All that afternoon Skag's eyes strained ahead, and his respect grew for
the thief elephant with his greater burden, and his wonder increased
for Nels and Gunpat Rao. One dim far peak held his eyes from time to
time; but Skag lived in the low beat of India's misery--the fever and
famine; the world of veils and the miseries beyond knowledge of the
world. He sank and sank until he was chilled, even though the sweat of
the day's fierce burning was upon him. He understood hate and death,
the thirst to kill; the slow ruin that comes at first to the human
mind, suddenly cut off from the one held more dear than life. It
seemed all boyish dazzle that he had ever found loveliness in this
place. That boyishness had passed. In this hour he saw only hatred
ahead and mockery, if Carlin--. . . but the far dim peak of misty
light held his aching eyes.

"Go on, Nels--on, old man," he would call.

And Chakkra would turn with protest that could not find words--his
tongue silenced by the lean terrible face in the howdah behind him.
Presently Chakkra would fall to talking to his master, muttering in a
kind of thrall at the thing he saw in the countenance of the American
who had touched bottom.

Sanford Hantee was facing the worst of the past and an impossible
future, having neither hate nor pity, now. Yet from time to time with
a glance at the gun-case at his feet, he spoke with cold clearness:

"We must overtake them before night."

Chakkra, who had ceased singing, would bow, saying:

"The trail is hot, Sahib. They are not far."

Steadily beneath them, Gunpat Rao straightened out, lengthening his
roll, softening his pitch. Nels was not trotting now, but in a long
low run. Skag was aghast at himself, that his heart did not go out to
these magnificent servants. There was not _feeling_ within him to
answer these verities of courage and endurance; yet he could remember
the human that had been in his heart.

The low hills had broken away behind them; the first veil of twilight
in the air. A shelving dip opened, showing the bottom of the valley.
Skag could see nothing ahead--but Nels lying closer to the trail.
Chakkra's shoulder was suddenly within reach of Skag's hand, for the
head of his master was lifted.

As the great curve of Gunpat Rao's trumpet arched before his