‘Hm,’ he said, ‘it doesn’t show any other paths. Still, the place lies almost dead east of the road-head, so we had better steer by compass.’
According to the compass none of the paths would do, so they struck into the jungle. It was not long after the rains just then, and the jungle was very thick, so thick that a man on the ground would have had to go down on his hands and knees to creep through it in places; but Jehangir made his own way.
Hussein carried his cousin’s ankus with him, so as to look like a great mahout; but he never used it, because his grandfather had said that the best mahouts never needed to — but it looked well. He had soon got tired of holding it, and had put it down behind him, just in front of the compass by which Gill was going. Naturally the iron affected the compass, so that by noon they found themselves before a river that ran between a hillside covered with bamboo and a great reddish expanse of rocky hills that faded away into thin jungly country in the distance.
‘This is all wrong,’ said Gill. ‘We are miles out. This river isn’t shown at all on the map.’
‘It is the Jhelunga, huzoor,’ said Hussein.
‘You’re right; I remember it now; I was here for pig-sticking some time ago. We’d better have lunch now we’re here.’
Hussein tapped Jehangir on the forehead, and the elephant knelt. Gill got off, and they pitched a little tent, for the sun was at its height. Gill fed from a tin of peaches and some biscuits, while Hussein retired behind a rock and ate his chupatties and some cold lamb’s tail, carefully wrapped in a vine leaf by Zeinab. Jehangir found a flowering mimosa bush, which he ate as far as the roots. Gill slept for a while in his tent, and Hussein wandered about until he found a wild mango. He called Jehangir, and was lifted up into the tree; he threw some mangoes down for the elephant, and had a few himself; then he swam in the river. It was a swiftly flowing stream, with a gravelly bed, so there was no danger of crocodiles. He swam about until Gill awoke and called him.
‘We had better cross the river,’ said Gill, after they had folded up the tent and got underway again; ‘if we strike due south we may get in by about moonrise.’
So Hussein led Jehangir down to the bank: there was a little sandy beach, and the elephant went over it very cautiously, for he knew that if once he got into a quicksand nothing would save him. As soon as the water was deep enough for him to swim, the elephant surged along at a surprising rate: Hussein swam beside him, for he knew that Jehangir must be feeling nervous. The strong current swept them down-stream quite a long way, but they got over without any mishap.
As Hussein was scrambling up the bank he cut his foot on a sharp-edged stone; Gill, on the elephant’s back, did not see it, or he would have put iodine and a bandage on it. They had followed the river for some way when they saw some black-buck feeding under a clump of trees. They were up-wind of the elephant, so they had not smelt the men. Gill whispered to Hussein to make Jehangir kneel, as he wanted to stalk one for the pot. Hussein was to wait with Jehangir by the river, where he could easily be found. Accordingly, as soon as Gill had slipped away among the bushes, Hussein turned Jehangir back to the river. He went along the bank until he reached a grove of bamboos. Here he got off Jehangir, and plucked some broad leaves, which he wrapped round his foot, to cool it.
Then he wandered in the shade, vaguely looking for fruit trees. Jehangir went back to the river, but Hussein knew that he would come back at a call. Quite soon he found a very large mango tree standing among the bamboos. Its smooth trunk stretched high up without a branch within reach, so he had to get up by means of a rather shaky bamboo that was growing beside it. He was waving about alarmingly at the top of the bamboo by the time he reached the lowest branch, but he managed to reach it in safety. The mangoes were very good, but monkeys had eaten most of them. Hussein climbed to a comfortably broad crotch, where he lay along a branch with his head to the trunk. The deep green shade of the myriads of leaves was very restful: millions of insects buzzed, making a deep, steady note all together.
A mynah came and whistled in a branch over his head, but a small grey monkey chattered at it, and it flew away. A brilliant green tree-frog clung to the underside of a broad leaf above him: it looked as though it had been glued there and painted. Suddenly its neck swelled, and it made an utterly disproportionate noise like the yapping of a small dog. Hussein threw a mango stone at it, and it vanished to another leaf, where it yapped again. Another mango stone flew, and it was quiet. Far away he could hear Jehangir splashing in the river, and once he trumpeted, perhaps to a wild elephant, for they lived in those parts. A sowar of wild pig grunted among the fallen mangoes for a while, but soon they went. A minute, gem-like beetle crawled laboriously on to his big toe, and flew away. Hussein slept.
Away by the bank where they had crossed, a dhole sniffed at the stone on which Hussein had cut his foot. The wild dog put back his head and howled. Another dhole answered him, and soon there were half a dozen of them on the little beach. Now and again one of them would raise his muzzle and give the calling cry to the rest of the pack. Far away, from among the red sandstone of the caves, where the pack lived, an answering howl came back.
More dholes came, and they followed the scent until it became confused at the place where Hussein had mounted Jehangir. The wild dogs scattered, and cast about until one of them picked up the trail again at the spot where Hussein had wandered off by himself. The dholes came together again; the scent of blood was easy to follow, so they ran along the trail. They were fierce red wild dogs — bushy-tailed, stoutly built, and rather smaller than wolves. They hunted in much larger packs than wolves, and there was nothing that could withstand them; a tiger or a wild boar would run from them, and even an elephant would turn aside when they passed.
Hussein heard a sound in his sleep, and stirred uneasily; then he yawned, and opened his eyes. In the open space beneath the tree there were about a dozen dholes. More were coming quietly through the undergrowth: they were all watching him.
He started to his feet, and instantly the nearest dhole leapt up at him, snapping his teeth just under the branch. As they reached the end of the trail the wild dogs had kept silent, but now they gave tongue. Several more leapt up, but fortunately for Hussein the branch was about a foot out of their reach. Many more came through the bushes and sat beneath the tree. Hussein counted fifty of them.
At intervals they howled; it was something between the howl of a jackal and that of a wolf, but more fierce than either. Hussein reached up and grasped a branch above his head; he swung himself higher, and the dholes stopped jumping up at him: they sat in a wide circle round the tree. They were quite capable of waiting there until he dropped from exhaustion.
Hussein heard a sound like an old rusty watch ticking very loud and fast: with a shock he realised that it was his own heart beating. He climbed higher and higher. Every time he seized a higher branch he felt a wave of fright go through him; he had never felt anything like it when he had been climbing before, but now his nerves were upset by the certain knowledge that if he lost his hold and fell, the dholes would be there. At length he crept out to the end of a long branch from which he could see a part of the river, and he called, ‘Ohé, Jehangir.’ His voice was rather squeaky and wavering. He waited a moment, and then called again, ‘Hitherao, hathi-raj. Ohé Jehangir!’
The dholes howled beneath him, and suddenly he felt giddy: he lay flat along the bough, and gripped it with all his strength. He shouted until his voice grew hoarse, and at length it failed him altogether — when he shouted only a croak came; but he saw no sign of the elephant. He crawled back along the branch, and sat with his back to the trunk, a-straddle the crotch.
Hussein pulled himself together, feeling rather angry at his weakness; but, indeed, the great circle of dholes, all glaring up at him with furious eyes, and all lusting hotly to eat his flesh, was enough to make the bravest man shiver a little.
A strong musty odour drifted up to him — the smell of the dholes — and he spat down at t
hem. He called again — his voice had come back — and this time there was a despairing note in his cry, and the dholes sensed it: they howled.
Four
Some time before, while Hussein was asleep, Gill had come back to the river with a small black-buck over his shoulder. Jehangir, standing shoulder-high in the stream, had seen him, and had come out on to the bank; they waited for Hussein in the shade of a twisted tree among the rocks. After some time the Englishman blew on his whistle; Hussein, in his tree, heard it, and shouted back. But the wind was in his direction, and although it carried the sound of the whistle to him, it carried his own voice away. Nevertheless, he felt rather better now that he knew where Gill was, for the sound obviously came from the river bank some way to his right. Hussein stopped his ears with a piece of bread that he still had in his dhoti, so that he might not hear the howling of the dholes, for it seemed to melt the strength from his bones, and he climbed down to a branch that touched a limb coming from another tree that lay towards the river. As he crawled out to the thin end of the bough, it bent down and swayed so much that it just brought him within reach of the leaping dholes for a moment: one of them, snapping at a twig growing from the branch, hung there as it swung up again. Then the dhole scrambled on to the branch and rushed at Hussein. Luckily the rounded branch gave the dog no foothold, and it fell to the ground before reaching him. Before the branch swung down again, Hussein had caught hold of the other one; he swung himself on to it. Although it was much stouter, it still swayed up and down a great deal, so that one moment he was practically in the jaws of the dholes as they leapt up, and the next he was far above them. The wild dogs were furiously excited: the noise was appalling. As soon as he could steady himself, Hussein scrambled along the branch to the trunk, where he rested, and pulled the bread from his ears, for his first panic was over, and he felt master of himself again.
There was a dead creeper on the tree, and he broke off lengths of it, throwing them at the dholes. They sat down and waited, with their red tongues hanging out, their ears pricked, and their thick tails brushing to and fro.
From this tree he could see his way plainly for about the spread of five large trees and a few smaller ones. After that a confused mass of greenness blocked out everything else. There were innumerable creepers joining the higher branches. Hussein saw a big grey langur running swiftly along them, and he decided to go by the same way. He found that they were easily strong enough to hold him. Grasping one of the thickest of the lianas he walked gingerly along.
In the middle, where the supporting branches were far apart, the monkey’s road swayed a good deal, and one or two dead creepers fell in long strands; but it held, and he quickly made his way through the trees, holding the thinner lianas with his hands, and walking along on the great cable-thick parasites that grew all over the biggest trees, and crushed the smaller ones to the ground. He was practically hidden among the leaves and blazing crimson flowers of the giant creepers, and he was high above the ground, so that for the space of two trees the dholes lost sight of him. His heart leapt, and he ran along the twisted stems: there was a chance that they would wait under one tree, while he could get away. But he went too fast in his eagerness, and missed his footing; he almost fell, but he snatched at a long liana that ripped away from the rest, and swung him hard against a branch. He grasped it, and was safe; but the noise had brought the dholes to the tree, and they crowded round it, howling like demons.
He rested awhile, as the fall had shaken him; his ribs were bruised, and he felt them tenderly. Nothing was broken — the leaves had checked the speed of the swing, but it was a nasty knock, and it had winded him. When his breath came back he went on, but soon he came to the last big tree. A sea of waving bamboos stretched away almost to the river. There was no large tree standing among them, and there were no creepers: he saw that he could go no farther.
He climbed as high as he could among the dark green shadows: nearly at the top of the great tree he poked his head out of the leaves. At first the sun blinded him, but when his eyes got used to the brilliant light he could see the river plainly, and by the place where they had crossed he could see Gill and Jehangir.
There were several kites circling above him; they were following the dholes for a share in their kill. Hussein unwound his turban and waved it, shouting as loud as he could. He could hear Gill whistling impatiently: the white man saw nothing, and Hussein saw him sit down on a rock; but Jehangir, who had been vaguely uneasy for some time, turned his head from side to side, with his great ears outstretched, and his trunk held straight out, sniffing the wind.
Then he shuffled quickly away towards the trees; Gill saw that something was the matter, and ran after him. The elephant paused and looked at Gill, considering whether he would be useful or not. He made up his mind quickly, and unceremoniously took Gill about the waist with his trunk, hoisting him up on to his back.
Hussein saw them coming, and climbed quickly down the tree. About half-way down he stepped right on top of a fat snake that lay coiled under a cluster of leaves; it fell, without striking him, and hit the ground squelchily. Hussein saw that his luck was in that day, and took heart of grace. As he came down lower the dholes greeted him with a deafening howl. He put on his turban again, and waited for Jehangir. He heard a crashing sound among the bamboos — Jehangir was making his own path. The dholes heard it too, and they looked this way and that: they were clearly puzzled, but they stayed under the tree.
At the edge of the clearing Jehangir paused for a moment. Gill was seated astride his neck, with a shot-gun in his hands, and the HV rifle, which he had brought for the leopard, across his knees; he had grasped the situation when he heard the dholes howling. Jehangir was thinking for a moment, trying to decide the best method of attack: the dholes stood motionless, the hair upright on their backs.
‘Call him to you and jump on to his back,’ shouted Gill, who had found that nothing he said or did had the least effect on the elephant. ‘I’ll pepper them with the shot-gun until we get clear.’
Hussein nodded and came down lower; the dholes leapt up at him, two and three at a time. He called gently to the elephant, ‘Hitherao, Jehangir.’
Jehangir came out from the bamboos with his trunk curled up: Gill blazed away into the dense, reddish-brown mass of the wild dogs, and in another moment Jehangir had passed under the branch, and Hussein had dropped on to his broad back. They were out of the clearing before the dholes had time to follow what was happening. But the wild dogs, though they were confused, were not daunted, and giving tongue they streaked away after the elephant. None of them was killed or even seriously injured, as the gun was only loaded with shot for partridge or sand-grouse.
Jehangir crashed through the thick bamboos as if they were grass; the stems struck the men on his back like whips.
The dholes wriggled through the undergrowth, yelping like young hounds in a covert. They came out into the open, and Jehangir began moving really fast. The wild dogs were strung out on either side, with a bunch just behind him. Altogether there were between fifty and seventy-five of them — a very formidable pack. They ran silently, keeping their distance, and waiting for a lead. Gill and Hussein changed places, a very difficult thing to do on the elephant’s swaying back, and Gill tried to pick off some of the dholes with his rifle; but Jehangir, going at full speed, rolled like a ship in a heavy sea, so his shooting was rather wild.
‘Shall we cross the river?’ he asked.
‘No,’ replied Hussein, ‘for they swim well; moreover, even Jehangir likes to take his time over a crossing and, being worried by these scum, he might be injured.’
As they were speaking one of the dholes running at the side came in and snapped at the elephant’s flank; he hung there for a moment, and dropped. Several others followed his lead, and soon the whole pack was close behind. Jehangir stopped suddenly, so that Gill was almost jerked off; then he turned very nimbly; the dholes fell away on either side, but he stamped on two of the slowest, destroying the
m utterly.
Then he went on, rumbling a little to himself in his throat. For a little while the pack kept its distance, but soon they were snapping behind him again. Gill was getting more used to the rolling now, and he wounded one of the leaders severely. In a moment the wounded dhole was torn to pieces; he had been the leader of the pack, and was very unpopular with the younger dholes. The pack swept on, leaving him for the following kites.
At this time they were passing through the bare rocks where the dholes had their lairs. Some of them ran ahead to a rocky defile where a ledge overhung the path. They leapt down as the elephant passed. Three of them got a footing on Jehangir’s hind-quarters, and they came at Gill. Hussein knocked one off, and Gill another, but the third got the Englishman’s arm between his teeth, and hung on. The heavy, thick-set brute had Gill half off before Hussein caught up his ankus (he had tucked it into the pad) and beat the dhole so hard on the head that it died at once. But even then its jaws stayed clamped, and they had to prise them open.
Gill recovered his balance as Jehangir turned again and stamped four times: at each stamp there was a short gasp as a dhole was flattened into the ground. But this time the dholes did not scatter: they leapt up all round, worrying the elephant’s legs. Jehangir plucked them off with his trunk, and hurled them against the rocks, but more came on. Some scrambled up to the ledge, and jumped down at Gill and Hussein. They were prepared, however, and knocked them off with clubbed guns. Jehangir stamped twice more, and broke away.
The chase began again, and for quite a long while the wild dogs kept a good distance off. Gill was firing rapidly, and he managed to pick off one or two now and then. They went on and on: the river was left far behind, and they were in a very desolate country with bare, reddish ground thinly covered with thorn trees. Gill’s left arm, just above the elbow, was badly torn, and it made his aim very unsteady after a while. He kept on firing, however, as he thought that the noise might keep the dholes off, even if it did not hit any of them; but soon they took very little notice of it.
Hussein Page 3