fused
notion that he should make an arrest seemed to occur to him, and he made
a few steps forward, but the magnitude of the task made him halt again,
dazed and bewildered, and thus they left him. The consternation they
caused in the bazaar is beyond words to describe. It is sufficient to
say that the better part of the population followed Maharaj at a safe
distance, looking like some huge procession, wending its way to the hut
of the mahout. Maharaj walked slowly to the door of the hut and laid
the corpse down.

"Hast thou brought them back safely, my son?" cried a fever-stricken
voice from the depths of the hut.

"Goor-r-r," said Maharaj in his throat.

"That is well; but why didst thou not arrive last evening? Didst travel
all night? Piroo, thou wilt find his sugar-cane in the shed; give him a
double measure and drive his pickets in under the mango-tree."

But there was no answer from Piroo, only the frightened whisperings of a
great number of people assembled outside. The old mahout, in alarm,
staggered to the door, and saw the body at the feet of Maharaj and the
crimson stains upon the trunk and feet of the elephant.

"Ahhi! ahhi! ahhi!" cried the old man aloud, "what madness is this? What
hast thou done, my son? Now they will shoot thee without doubt--thy life
for his, and he was not worth his salt. Ahhi! ahhi!"

Then the old man wept, embracing the trunk of the elephant, which was
coiled round his master, while the people looked on, and the boys, worn
and tired by the strain of that awful night, could barely cling to their
seats on the neck of Maharaj.

Then the mahout, weak as he was, helped them off, and set about washing
the dark red stains away.

"Ahhi! ahhi!" he sobbed. "I have lost a nephew. I have lost also my
son, who will surely be shot by the sirkar for this deed. My Maharaj, my
greatest of kings! What shall I do without thee! I will return to my
country and drive no more. Ahhi! ahhi!"

But this happily was not to be, for a strange thing happened. The nephew
recovered. Piroo had only been stunned by the blow, and the blood that
covered his face had come from his nose. He was, after a time, himself
again, but a wiser man, and Maharaj was not shot after all. Yet the boys
do not like to think of that adventure even to-day.

XVI

WHO GOES THERE?

The world is but a huge playground, after all; and just as the sympathy
of those who witness a fight between two boys--one of whom is a big