men around
us, would willingly pass a night in the forest?"

"True talk," agreed the old Mohammedan. "Which of us would care to lie down
alone beside his elephant in the jungle all night? Yet the sahib sleeps
there--if he does sleep--without fear. And no harm comes to him."

Ramnath slowly shook his head.

"The sahib does not sleep. Nor is there aught in the forest that can do him
harm. Or my elephant either. The _budmash_ tried to kill the sahib, and
Badshah protected him. When the big snake attacked Badshah, the sahib saved
him.

"But what do they in the forest?" asked Chotu again. "Tell me that,
Ramnath-_ji_."

Once more Ramnath shook his head.

"What know we? We are black men. What knowledge have we of what the sahibs
do, of what they can do? They go under the sea in ships, beneath the land
in carriages. So say the sepoys who have been to _Vilayet_ (Europe). They
fly in the air like birds. That have I seen with my own eyes at Delhi----"

"And I at Lahore," broke in the old Mohammedan.

"And I at Nucklao (Lucknow)," said a third.

"But never yet was there a man, black man or sahib, who could hold a
_dhantwallah_ when the mad fit was on him, as our sahib has done,"
continued Ramnath. "He is under the protection of the gods."

Even the Mohammedans among his audience nodded assent. Their _mullah_
taught them that the gods of the Hindu were devils. But who knew? Mecca was
far away, and the jungle with its demons was very near them. Among the
various creeds in India there is a wide tolerance and a readiness to
believe that there may be something of truth in all the faiths that men
profess. A Hindu will hang a wreath of marigolds on the tomb of a
Mohammedan _pir_--a Mussulman saint--and recite a _mantra_, if he knows
one, before it as readily as he will before the shrine of Siva.

While the superstitious elephant attendants talked, Badshah was moving at a
fast shambling pace along animal paths through the forest farther and
farther away from the _peelkhana_. Wild beasts always follow a track
through the jungle, even a man-made road, in preference to forcing a way
through the undergrowth for themselves. As he was borne swiftly along, his
rider felt that, although the elephant had allowed him to mount to his
accustomed place, it would resent any attempts at restraint or guidance.
But indeed Dermot had no wish to control it. He was filled with an immense
desire to learn the mystery of Badshah's frequent disappear