mountains at the head of all the elephants of the Terai? Can
he not call them to his aid as Hanuman did the monkeys?"

"He is certainly a Holy One or else a very powerful demon," declared the
old man. "It is an evil and a dangerous thing to molest those whom he
protects. The Bhuttias, ignorant pagans that they are, carried off the
missie _baba_ he favours. What, think ye, has been their fate? With your
own eyes ye have all seen the blood and the flesh of men upon the tusk and
legs of his sacred elephant."

And so through the night the shuttle of superstitious talk went backward
and forward and wove a still more marvellous garment of fancy to drape the
reputation of elephant and man. The godship that the common belief had long
endowed Badshah with was being transferred to his master; and a mere Indian
Army Major was transformed into a mysterious Hindu deity.

Meanwhile in the well-lighted bungalow in which all the sahibs were
gathered together the servants were hurriedly preparing a supper such as
lonely Malpura had never known. And Noreen's pretty drawing-room was
crowded with men in riding costume or in uniform--for most of the planters
belonged to a Volunteer Light Horse Corps, and some of them, expecting a
fight, had put on khaki when they got Daleham's summons. Their rifles,
revolvers, and cartridge belts were piled on the verandah. Chunerbutty,
feeling that his presence among them would not be welcomed by the white men
that night, had gone off to his own bungalow in jealous rage. And nobody
missed him. Dermot, despite his protests, had been dragged off to have his
hurts attended to, and it was then seen that he had been touched by three
bullets.

When all were assembled in the room the planters demanded the tale of
Noreen's adventures; and the girl, looking dainty and fresh in a white
muslin dress, unlike the heroine of her recent tragic experience, smilingly
complied and told the story up to the point of Dermot's unexpected and
dramatic intervention.

"Now you must go on, Major," she said, turning to him.

"Yes, yes, Dermot. Carry on the tale," was the universal cry.

Everyone turned an expectant face towards where the soldier sat, looking
unusually embarrassed.

"Oh, there's nothing much to tell," he said. "The raiders--they were
Bhuttias--had left a trail easy enough to see, though I confess that I
would have lost it once but for my elephant. When I came up to them, as
Miss Daleham has just told you, the