times faced death undauntedly at her husband's
side broke down utterly at the thought of her children's peril.

She overwhelmed Wargrave with her thanks, while Muriel complimented him
on his promptness and presence of mind and then scolded the urchins for
their disobedience in wandering away from the garden by themselves. But
the unrepentant pair smiled genially at her from the shelter of their
mother's arms and assured her that "Fwankie" would always take care of
them. Their mother, even when she grew more composed, could not be
severe after so nearly losing them; but although unwilling to terrify
them by a recital of the awful fate from which the subaltern had saved
them by the merest chance, she impressed upon them again and again her
oft-repeated warning that they must never leave the garden alone.

But they were not awed; so, bidding them thank and kiss him, she bore
them off to bed, her eyes still full of tears.

Wargrave sent a servant to fetch his orderly and the detachment _mochi_,
or cobbler, to skin the panther, the news of the death of which soon
spread. So Major Hunt and Burke joined Miss Benson and the subaltern
when they went to look at its body, and numbers of sepoys streamed up
from the Fort to view the animal, which had long been notorious in the
station. Lamps had to be brought to finish the skinning of it; and the
hide, when taken off, was carried in triumph to the Mess compound to be
cured.

On the following afternoon on the tennis-court in a corner of the
parade ground Miss Benson was left with Burke and Wargrave when Mrs.
Dermot had taken her children home at sunset.

"You've completely won her heart," the girl said to the subaltern,
pointing with her racquet to the disappearing form of her friend.
"Nothing's too good for you for saving these precious mites. But she'll
never let them out of her sight again until their big nurse returns."

"You mean their elephant? Well, of course he's a marvellously
well-trained animal; but is he really so reliable that he can always be
trusted to look after those children?"

"Badshah is something very much more than a well-trained animal. Perhaps
some time out in the jungle you may understand why the natives regard
him as sacred and call Colonel Dermot the 'God of the Elephants.' You
don't know Badshah as we do."

"Well, old Burke here has told me some strange yarns about him. But, as
he's always pulling my leg, I never know when to believe him."

The