dled about Horace Dickson's
body and began to swing him. Skag knew that elephants swing men when
they intend to kill them; and he heard a low moaning--like wind--rise
up from the multitude of mahouts behind.

. . . Further and further the boy swung in the elephant's trunk, back
and forth--back and forth. Unnatural tones startled Skag--sounding
like delirium. Nut Kut put little Horace Dickson down, close under his
own throat, his long trunk curling outside--always curling
about--feeling up and down the boy's limbs, his frame, his face. The
small mouth was open; the little red tongue--flickering.

Horace seemed oblivious; but when he laughed aloud. Nut Kut caught him
up again--lightning quick. This time he swung the boy higher, till he
rounded a perfect circle in the air; backing still further away and
lifting his head. Nut Kut flung him round and round and yet
around--faster and yet faster.

The moaning--like wind--still came from behind.

After endless time--like perdition--Skag heard Horace gasping, choking.
He thought there were words; but couldn't be sure. And while this was
going on. Nut Kut brought the boy down--flat on the ground. The
impact must have broken a man. But Horace got to his feet--staggering
in the circle of the trunk--looking dazed.

Now Skag moved forward, holding his hands out--as he came nearer to the
big black head.

"I know you now, Nut Kut," he said quietly, "you're white inside all
right. You're not meaning to hurt him. You like him--so do I."

But Nut Kut backed away, gathering the boy with him, looking down into
the American's eyes--the red danger signals flaring up in his own again.

"Nut Kut, old man," Skag reasoned in perfectly natural tones, "you
can't bluff me. I tell you, I know you. I know you as well as if we
came out of the same egg!"

Nut Kut was still backing away and Skag was following up.

"You may take me, if you want--I can't let you wear him out, you know."

And then, while Nut Kut wrapped about and drew Horace in closer, Skag
laid his fingers on the great bronze trunk, gently but firmly
stroking--the red eyes focused in his own. For seconds the man and the
elephant looked into each other. Suddenly Nut Kut loosed Horace and
laid hold on Skag.

The moaning ascended and broke--like wind going up a mountain khud.
There was nothing certain to the mahouts, but that this man of courage
would be dashed to death before their eyes.

Skag squirmed in the