e to nod to Little Toomai
wriggling with joy on the top of the posts.

He did more than wriggle. One night he slid down from the post and
slipped in between the elephants and threw up the loose end of a rope,
which had dropped, to a driver who was trying to get a purchase on
the leg of a kicking young calf (calves always give more trouble than
full-grown animals). Kala Nag saw him, caught him in his trunk, and
handed him up to Big Toomai, who slapped him then and there, and put him
back on the post.

Next morning he gave him a scolding and said, "Are not good brick
elephant lines and a little tent carrying enough, that thou must needs
go elephant catching on thy own account, little worthless? Now those
foolish hunters, whose pay is less than my pay, have spoken to Petersen
Sahib of the matter." Little Toomai was frightened. He did not know much
of white men, but Petersen Sahib was the greatest white man in the world
to him. He was the head of all the Keddah operations--the man who caught
all the elephants for the Government of India, and who knew more about
the ways of elephants than any living man.

"What--what will happen?" said Little Toomai.

"Happen! The worst that can happen. Petersen Sahib is a madman. Else why
should he go hunting these wild devils? He may even require thee to be
an elephant catcher, to sleep anywhere in these fever-filled jungles,
and at last to be trampled to death in the Keddah. It is well that this
nonsense ends safely. Next week the catching is over, and we of the
plains are sent back to our stations. Then we will march on smooth
roads, and forget all this hunting. But, son, I am angry that thou
shouldst meddle in the business that belongs to these dirty Assamese
jungle folk. Kala Nag will obey none but me, so I must go with him into
the Keddah, but he is only a fighting elephant, and he does not help
to rope them. So I sit at my ease, as befits a mahout,--not a mere
hunter,--a mahout, I say, and a man who gets a pension at the end of
his service. Is the family of Toomai of the Elephants to be trodden
underfoot in the dirt of a Keddah? Bad one! Wicked one! Worthless son!
Go and wash Kala Nag and attend to his ears, and see that there are no
thorns in his feet. Or else Petersen Sahib will surely catch thee and
make thee a wild hunter--a follower of elephant's foot tracks, a jungle
bear. Bah! Shame! Go!"

Little Toomai went off without saying a word, but he told Kala Nag all
his grievan