elephant had
unbalanced her boy-mahout from her neck; but his father--the very old
mahout--was coming as fast as he could across the space before them,
calling to her--like the lover of wild creatures that he was.

Carlin bent from her howdah and spoke joyously:

"Put him up, Mitha Baba, put him up!"

And Mitha Baba scarcely broke her stride, which was lengthening every
step, as she obediently circled the old man with her trunk and
carelessly flung him on her neck.

"We'll fetch them all home!" the Gul Moti's voice floated back, as they
melted away into the night.

The Chief Commissioner gave Son-of-Power his hand--being without words,
for the moment.

"Is she safe?" Skag asked.

"Absolutely safe!" the Chief Commissioner assured him. "The caparisons
may be doused in the Nerbudda, but the howdahs will not be in the least
wet."

"What did she mean--that she'd fetch them all back?"

"She meant that Mitha Baba has been used in the High Hills--for years
before she was sent down--to decoy wild elephants into the
trap-stockades. She's entirely competent, is Mitha Baba; she's the
leader of my caravan--next to Neela Deo. Of course Neela Deo is our
only hope of overtaking them; he's fast enough, but this is rather soon
after his injury, and he'll have to rest a bit. In the meantime, come
away up to the house; we'll talk there."

CHAPTER XIV

_Neela Deo, King of All Elephants (Continued)_

To possess one white elephant is calamity. But if Evil--the nameless
one--could possess a pair, he would breed an army able to break down the
very walls of Equity.

Indra--supreme hypocrite--fathered the first two, who were brother and
sister. Kali--wife of Shiva, the great destroyer--Kali--goddess of
plague and famine and fear and death--was their mother.

Beware the white elephant--who is never white. The stain of Indra is on
his skin; the shadow of Kali on his hair. Honour is not in him!

The Gul Moti had always loved adventures; and she had been in the throat
of several. But this was no lark; it was more serious than funny.
Thirty-eight of the most valuable elephants in India were rolling away
before her toward the Vindha Hills. If they once arrived there, no man
could say how many of them, or if any of them, would ever be recovered.
The Nerbudda River crossed their path mid-way--almost at flood. If they
entered that tide--deep and wide and muddy--state-housings of great value
would be hopelessly damage