the doorway. Moti Guj
knew well that it was the dearest thing on earth to Chihun. He swung out
his trunk with a fascinating crook at the end, and the brown baby threw
itself, shouting upon it. Moti Guj made fast and pulled up till the
brown baby was crowing in the air twelve feet above his father's head.

"Great Lord!" said Chihun. "Flour cakes of the best, twelve in number,
two feet across and soaked in rum, shall be yours on the instant, and
two hundred pounds weight of fresh-cut young sugar-cane therewith. Deign
only to put down safely that insignificant brat who is my heart and my
life to me!"

Moti Guj tucked the brown baby comfortably between his forefeet, that
could have knocked into toothpicks all Chihun's hut, and waited for his
food. He ate it, and the brown baby crawled away. Moti Guj dozed and
thought of Deesa. One of many mysteries connected with the elephant is
that his huge body needs less sleep than anything else that lives. Four
or five hours in the night suffice--two just before midnight, lying down
on one side; two just after one o'clock, lying down on the other. The
rest of the silent hours are filled with eating and fidgeting, and long
grumbling soliloquies.

At midnight, therefore, Moti Guj strode out of his pickets, for a
thought had come to him that Deesa might be lying drunk somewhere in the
dark forest with none to look after him. So all that night he chased
through the undergrowth, blowing and trumpeting and shaking his ears. He
went down to the river and blared across the shallows where Deesa used
to wash him, but there was no answer. He could not find Deesa, but he
disturbed all the other elephants in the lines, and nearly frightened to
death some gypsies in the woods.

At dawn Deesa returned to the plantation. He had been very drunk indeed,
and he expected to get into trouble for outstaying his leave. He drew a
long breath when he saw that the bungalow and the plantation were still
uninjured, for he knew something of Moti Guj's temper, and reported
himself with many lies and salaams. Moti Guj had gone to his pickets for
breakfast. The night exercises had made him hungry.

"Call up your beast," said the planter; and Deesa shouted in the
mysterious elephant language that some mahouts believe came from China
at the birth of the world, when elephants and not men were masters. Moti
Guj heard and came. Elephants do not gallop. They move from places at
varying rates of speed. If an elephant