CHAPTER XX
THE GOD OF THE ELEPHANTS
At the end of the half hour a tempest of noise arose from the village;tom-toms were beaten, conch-shells blown and vigorous cheering washeard. Then from the huts long lines of coolies carrying weapons ofevery sort, rifles, old muskets, spears, and swords streamed out andencircled the bungalow at a distance. A little later the Rajah's twentyhorsemen rode out of the village on their raw-boned stallions, followedby a hundred infantry soldiers who, Dermot observed, were now armed withrifles in place of their former muskets.
The dismounted troops formed up before the bungalow but half a mile away,in two lines in open order. But the cavalry kept together in a body; andthe officer, turning in his saddle to speak to his men, pointed to thehouse with his sword.
"I believe they're going to charge us," said Dermot.
He had divided up the garrison to the four sides of the bungalow; but now,leaving one man with the shot gun to keep a watch on the back, he collectedthe rest on the front verandah. Noreen was inside, feeding the hungrychildren and consoling the mothers.
"Now, Daleham, don't fire until they are close, and then aim at thehorses," said the Major, repeating the instruction to the servants in Urdu.
The Punjaubis grinned and patted their rifles.
The cavalry advanced. The _sowars_ ambled forward, brandishing their curvedsabres and uttering fierce yells. Dermot, knowing Sher Afzul and anotherman to be good shots, ordered them to open fire when the horsemen wereabout four hundred yards away. He himself took a steady aim at thecommander and pressed the trigger. The officer, shot through the body,threw up his arms and fell forward on his horse's head. The startled animalshied and bolted across the furrows; and the corpse, dropping from thesaddle, was dragged along the ground, one foot being caught in a stirrup.The cavalry checked for an instant; and Dermot fired again. A _sowar_ fell.The rest cantered forward, yelling and waving their _tulwars_. SherAfzul and the other servants opened fire. A second horseman dropped fromhis saddle, a stallion stumbled and fell, throwing its rider heavily.The firing grew faster. Two or three more horses were wounded andgalloped wildly off. The rest of the cavalry came on, but, losing theirnerve, checked their pace instead of charging home.
Dermot, loading and firing rapidly, bringing a _sowar_ down with each shot,suddenly found Noreen crouching beside him behind the barricade. She washolding a revolver.
"For Heaven's sake, get into the house, darling!" he cried.
"No; I have Fred's pistol and know how to use it," she answered, calmly. "Ihave often practised with it."
He could not stop to argue with her, for the troopers still came on. Butthey bunched together, knee to knee, in a frontal attack, instead ofassaulting from all four sides at once. They made a splendid target andsuffered heavily. But some brought their horses' heads almost against theverandah railing. All the garrison rose from behind the barricade and firedpoint-blank at them. The girl, steadying her hand on a box, shot one_sowar_ through the body. The few survivors turned and galloped madly away,leaving most of their number on the ground. To cover their retreat a raggedvolley broke from the infantry; and a storm of bullets flew over and aroundthe bungalow, ricocheted from the ground or struck the walls. But one youngMohammedan servant, who had incautiously exposed himself, dropped back shotthrough the lungs.
Then from every side fire was opened, the coolies blazing wildly; but asnone of them had ever had a rifle in his hands before, the firing was forthe most part innocuous. Yet it served to encourage them, and they drewnearer. The garrison, with only one or two defenders to each side of thehouse, could not keep them at a distance. The infantry began to crawlforward. The circle of foes closed in on the bungalow and its doomedinhabitants. Shrieks and cries rose from the women and children inside.
But although every bullet from the garrison found its billet, the issue wasonly a matter of time. Ill-directed as was the assailants' fire, theshowers of bullets were too thick not to have some effect. Another servantwas killed, a third wounded. Daleham was struck on the shoulder by aricochet but only scratched. A rifle bullet, piercing the barricade, passedthrough Noreen's hair, as she crouched beside her lover, whom sheresolutely refused to leave. The ring of enemies constricted.
Suddenly a bugle sounded from the village; and after a little the firingfrom the attackers ceased. Dermot, who with Noreen and Sher Afzul, wasdefending the front verandah, looked cautiously over the barricade. A whiteflag appeared in the village. The Major shouted to the others in the houseto hold their fire but be on their guard.
After a pause the flag advanced, borne by a coolie. It was followed by agroup of men; and Dermot through the glasses recognised the Rajah andChunerbutty accompanied by several Brahmins. They advanced timidly towardsthe bungalow and stopped a hundred yards away. After some urgingChunerbutty stepped to the front and called for Daleham to appear.
Fred came through the house from the back verandah, where his place wastaken by Sher Afzul. He looked over the barricade. Chunerbutty came nearerand shouted:
"Daleham, the Rajah gives you one more chance to surrender. You see yourcase is hopeless. You can have a quarter of an hour to think things over.If at the end of that time you and your sister don't come out, we'll rushthe bungalow and finish you all."
Standing under the white flag he drew out his watch.
"Thank you," said Daleham; "and our reply is that if in a quarter of anhour you're still there, you'll get a bullet through you, white flag or nowhite flag."
He turned to Dermot whose arm was around Noreen as she crouched beside him.
"Well, Major, it's fifteen more minutes of life, that's all."
"Yes, it's nearly the end now. I've only two cartridges left."
"We're all in the same box. Getting near time we said good-bye. It wasjolly good of you to stick by us, when you might have got away last night."
Dermot gripped the outstretched hand.
"If I go under first, you'll not let Noreen fall alive into the hands ofthose brutes, will you, sir?"
The girl raised her revolver.
"I'll keep the last cartridge for myself, dear," she said.
She looked lovingly at Dermot whose arm was still about her. Her brotherbetrayed no surprise.
"I'm not afraid to die, dear one," she whispered to her lover. "I couldn'tlive without you now. And I'm happy at this moment, happier than I've everbeen, I think. But I wish you had saved yourself."
He mastered his emotion with difficulty.
"Darling, life without you wouldn't be possible for me either."
He could not take his eyes from her; and the minutes were flying all tooswiftly. At last he looked at his watch and held out his hand to the boy.
"Good-bye, Daleham, you've got your wish. You're dying like a soldier forEngland," he said. "We've done our share for her. Now, we've three minutesmore. If the Rajah and Chunerbutty come into view again I'll have them withmy last two shots."
He turned to the girl and took her in his arms for a last embrace.
"Good-bye, sweetheart. Dear love of my heart. Pray that we may be togetherin the next world."
He paused and listened.
"Are they coming?"
But he did not put her from him. One second now was worth an eternity.
Then suddenly a distant murmur swelled through the strange silence. Dalehamlooked out over the barricade.
"They're--No. What is it? What are they doing?"
All round the circle of besiegers there was an eerie hush. No voice washeard. All--the Rajah, the flag-bearer, Brahmins, soldiers, coolies--hadturned their faces away from the bungalow and were staring into thedistance. And as the few survivors of the garrison looked up over thebarricade an incredible sight met their eyes.
From the far-off forest, bursting out at every point of the long-stretchingwall of dark undergrowth that hemmed in the wide estate, wild elephantsappeared. Over the furrowed acres they streamed in endless lines, tramplingdown the ordered stretch of green bushes. In score
s, in hundreds, theycame, silently, slowly; the great heads nodding to the rhythm of theirgait, the trunks swinging, the ragged ears flapping, as they advanced.Converging as they came, they drew together in a solid mass that blottedout the ground, a mass sombre-hued, dark, relieved only by flashes ofgleaming white. For on either side of every massive skull jutted out thesharp-pointed, curving ivory. Of all save one.
For the mammoth that led them, the splendid beast that captained theoncoming array of Titans under the ponderous strokes of whose feet theground trembled, had one tusk, one only. And as though the white flag werea magnet to him, he moved unerringly towards it, the immense, earth-shakingphalanx following him.
The awestruck crowds of armed men, so lately flushed with fanatical lust ofslaughter, stood as though turned to stone, their faces set towards theterrifying onset. Their pain unheeded, their groans silenced, the woundedstaggered to their feet to look. Even the dying strove to raise themselveson their arms from the reddened soil to gaze, and, gazing, fell back dead.Slowly, mechanically, silently, the living gave way, the weapons droppingfrom their nerveless grip. Step by step they drew back as if compelled bysome strange mesmeric power.
And on the verandah the few survivors of the little band stood together,silent, amazed, scarce believing their eyes as they stared at theincredible vision. All but Dermot. His gaze was fixed on the leader of thatterrible army; and he smiled, tenderly yet proudly. His arm drew the girlbeside him still closer to him, as he murmured:
"He comes to save us for each other, beloved!"
Nothing was heard, save the dull thunder of the giant feet. Then from thevillage the high-pitched shriek of a woman pierced the air and shatteredthe eerie silence of the terror-stricken crowds. Murmurs, groans, swelledinto shouts, wild yells, the appalling uproar of panic; and strong andweak, hale men and those from whose wounds the life-blood dripped, turnedand fled. Fled past their dead brothers, past the little group of leaderswhose power to sway them had vanished before this awful menace.
Petrified, rooted to the ground as though their quaking limbs wereincapable of movement, the Rajah and his satellites stood motionless beforethe oncoming elephants. But when the leader almost towered above him,Chunerbutty was galvanised to life again. In mad panic he raised a pistolin his trembling hand and fired at the great beast. The next instant thehuge tusk caught him. He was struck to the earth, gored, and lifted high inair. An appalling shriek burst from his bloodless lips. He was hurled tothe ground with terrific force and trodden under foot. The Rajah screamedshrilly and turned to flee. Too late! The earth shook as the great phalanxmoved on faster and passed without checking over the white-clad group,blotting them out of all semblance to humanity.
The dying yell of the renegade Hindu, arresting in its note of agony,caused the fleeing crowds to pause and turn to look. And as they witnessedthe annihilation of their leaders they saw a yet more wondrous sight. Forthe dark array of monsters halted as the leader reached the house; and withthe sea of twisted trunks upraised to salute him and a terrifying peal oftrumpeting, they welcomed the white man who walked out from the shot-tornbuilding towards the leader of the vast herd. Then in a solemn hush he wasraised high in air and held aloft for all to see, beasts and men. And inthe silence a single voice in the awestruck crowds cried shrilly:
"_Hathi ka Deo ki jai!_ (Victory to the God of the Elephants!)"
In wonder, in dread, in superstitious reverence, hundreds of voices took upthe refrain: _"Hathi ka Deo! Hathi ka Deo ki jai!"_
And leaving his thousand companions behind, the sacred elephant that allrecognised now advanced towards the shrinking crowds, bearing the dreadwhite god upon its neck. Had he not come invisibly among them again? Hadthey not witnessed the fate of those that opposed him? Had he not summonedfrom all Hindustan his man-devouring monsters to punish, to annihilate hisenemies. Forgetful of their hate, their bloodthirst, their lust of battle,conscious only of their guilt, the terror-stricken crowds surged forwardand flung themselves down in supplication on the earth. They wept, theywailed, they bared their heads and poured dust upon them, in all theextravagant demonstration of Oriental sorrow. Out from the village streamedthe women and children to add their shrill cries to the lamentations.
With uplifted hand, Dermot silenced them. An awful hush succeeded thetumult. He swept his eyes slowly over them all, and every head went down tothe dust again. Then he spoke, solemnly, clearly; and his voice reachedeveryone in the prostrate mob.
"My wrath is upon you and upon your children. Flee where you will, it shallovertake you. You have sinned and must atone. On those most guiltypunishment has already fallen. Where are they that misled you? Go look forthem under the feet of my elephants. Yet from you, ye poor deluded fools,for the moment I withhold my hand. But touch a single hair of those in yourmidst whom I protect, and you perish."
Not a sound was heard.
Then he said:
"Men of Lalpuri, who have come among these fools in thirst for blood. Youhave heard of me. You have seen my power. You see me. Go back to your city.Tell them there that I, who fed my elephants on the flesh of your comradesin the forest, shall come to them riding on my steed sacred to _Gunesh_. Ifthey spare the evil counselors among them, then them I will not spare. Oftheir city no stone shall remain. Go back to them and bear this message toall within and without the walls, 'The British _Raj_ shall endure. It is mywill.' Tell them to engrave it on their hearts, on their children'shearts."
He paused. Then he spoke again:
"Rise, all ye people. Ye have my leave to go."
Noiselessly they obeyed. He watched them move away in terrified silence.Not a whisper was heard.
Then he smiled as he said to himself:
"That should keep them quiet."
He turned Badshah towards the bungalow.
Forty miles away, when darkness fell on the mountains that night, the armyof the invaders slept soundly in their bivouacs around the doomed post ofRanga Duar. On the morrow the last feeble resistance of its garrison mustcease, and happy those of the defenders who died. Luckless they that lived.For the worst tortures that even China knew would be theirs.
But when the morrow came there was no longer an investing army.Panic-stricken, the scattered remnants of the once formidable hoststaggered blindly up the inhospitable mountains only to perish in thesnows of the passes. For in the dark hours annihilation had come uponthe rest. Countless monsters, worse, far worse, than the legendarydragons of their native land, had come from the skies, sprung from theearth. And under their huge feet the army had perished.
When the sun rose Dermot knelt beside the mattress on which Parker layamong the heaps of rubble that had once been the Fort. An Indian officer,the only one left, and a few haggard sepoys stood by. The rest of the fewsurvivors of the gallant band had thrown themselves down to sleep haphazardamong the ruins that covered the bodies of their comrades.
"Is it all true, Major? Are they really gone?" whispered the subalternfeebly.
"Yes, Parker, it's quite true. They've gone. You've helped to save India.You held them off--God knows how you did it. Your wound's a nasty one; butyou'll get over it."
He rose and held out his hands to the others. _"Shabash!_ (Well done!)_Subhedar Sahib_, Mohammed Khan, Gulab Khan, Shaikh Bakar, well done."
And the men of the alien race pressed round him and clasped his handsgratefully.
The defeat of the invaders in this little-known corner of the Indian Empirewas but the forerunner of the disasters that befell the other enemies ofthe British dominion, though many months passed before peace settled on theland again. But Lalpuri had not so long to wait for Dermot to redeem hispromise to visit it. When he did he rode on Badshah at the head of aBritish force. The gates were flung open wide; and he passed throughsubmissive crowds to see the blackened ruins of the Palace that, stormed,looted, and burnt by its rebel soldiery, hid the ashes of the _Dewan_.
A year had gone by. In the villages perched on the steep sides of themountains the Bhuttia women rejoiced to
know that the peace of theBorderland would never be broken again while the dread hand of a god lay onit. And in their bamboo huts they tried to hush their little children withthe mention of his name. But the sturdy, naked babies had no fear of him.For they all knew him; and he was kind and far less terrible than the godsand demons that the old lama showed them in the painted Wheel of Life senthim from Tibet. Moreover, the white god's wife was kinder even than he. Butthat was because she was not a goddess. Only a girl.
On the high hills, up above the villages, a couple stood. No god andgoddess: just a man and a woman. And the woman looked down past the huts,down to the great Terai Forest lying like a vast billowy sea of foliage farbelow them. Then, as her husband's arm stole round her, she turned her eyesfrom it and gazed into his and whispered:
"I love it more than even you do. For it gave you to me."
A crashing in the clump of hill bamboos at their feet attracted theirattention; and with a smile he pointed down to the great elephant with thesingle tusk who was dragging down the feathery plumes with his curvingtrunk.
But Noreen looked up at Dermot again and said:
"I love you more than even Badshah does."
And their lips met.
THE END
_A Selection from the Catalogue of_
G.P. PUTNAM'S SONS
Complete Catalogues sent on application
Rosa Mundi
By
Ethel M. Dell
Author of
"The Top of the World," "The Lamp in the Desert," "The Way of an Eagle,"etc.
Some of the finest stories ever written by Miss Ethel M. Dell are gatheredtogether in this volume. They are arresting, thrilling, tense withthrobbing life, and of absorbing interest; they tell of romantic andpassionate episodes in many lands--in the hill districts of India, in theburning heart of Africa, and in the colonial bush country. The author'svivid and vigorous style, skillfully developed plots, her intenselysympathetic treatment of emotional scenes, and the strongly delineatedcharacter sketches, are typical of Ethel M. Dell's best work, and thisvolume will be found to contain some of the most remarkable of her shorterromances.
G.P. Putnam's Sons
New York London
Prairie Flowers
By
James B. Hendryx
Author of "The Texan"
When Tex Benton said he'd do a thing, he _did_ it, as readers of "TheTexan" will affirm. So when, after a year of drought, he announced hispurpose of going to town to get thoroughly "lickered up," unsuspectingTimber City was elected as the stage for a most thorough and sensationalorgy.
But neither Tex nor Timber City could foresee the turbulent chain ofevents which were to result from his high, if indecorous, resolve, hereset down--the wild tale of an untamed West.
A well-known writer, who has served his apprenticeship in the cow country,said the other day, "I like Hendryx's stories--they're real. His boys arethe boys I used to work with and know. His West is the West I learned tolove."
G.P. Putnam's Sons
New York London
The Ivory Fan
By
Adrian Heard
When Lily Kellaway makes the observation, "It is better to be a slave to aman, which is natural, than to a woman, which is intolerable," she recitesthe text upon which the author of _The Ivory Fan_ has built up a novelthat is at once humorous in its cynicism and cynical in its humor. At thesame time he gives us a pastel of certain phases of life comprehensive inits coloring and bitterly uncompromising of line.
This is an unconventional book, full of incident and plenty of cleverdialogue.
G.P. Putnam's Sons
New York London
Too Old for Dolls
By
Anthony M. Ludovici
The story of a "flapper" too old for dolls, scarcely old enough foranything else, but capable of enraging her older sister and even her motherby the ease with which she secures the admiration of their male friends.
"From a Mohawk, from a sexless savage with tangled hair and blotchyfeatures, she had, by a stroke of the wand, become metamorphosed into aremarkably attractive young woman." And with the change came adisconcerting knowledge of power.
A very real, very tense, and very modern novel.
G.P. Putnam's Sons
New York London
The Elephant God Page 22