The Elephant God | Page 8

tangled masses of
bushes, covered with large, bell-shaped flowers and tall grasses in
which lurked countless thorny plants obstructed the view between the
tree-trunks. Above and below was a bewildering confusion of creepers
forming an intricate network, swinging from the upper branches and
twisting around the boles, biting deep into the bark, strangling the life
out of the stoutest trees or holding up the withered, lifeless trunks of
others long dead. They filled the space between the tree-tops and the
undergrowth, entangled, crisscrossed, festooned, like a petrified mass
of writhing snakes.
Through this maddening obstacle Badshah forced his way; while
Dermot hacked at the impeding lianas with a sharp kukri, the
heavy-bladed Gurkha knife. The elephant moved on at an easy pace,
shouldering aside the surging waves of vegetation and bursting the
clinging hold of the creepers. As he went he swept huge bunches of
grass up in his trunk, tore down leafy trails or broke off small branches,
and crammed them all impartially into his mouth. At a touch of
Dermot's foot or the guiding pressure of his hand he swerved aside to
avoid a tree or a particularly thorny bush.
There was little life to be seen. But occasionally, with a whirring sound
of rushing wings, a bright-plumaged jungle cock with his attendant
bevy of sober-clad hens swept up with startled squawks from under the
huge feet and flew to perch high up on neighbouring trees, chattering
and clucking indignantly in their fright. The pretty black and white
Giant Squirrel ran along the upper branches; or a troop of little brown
monkeys leapt away among the tree tops.
It was fascinating to be borne along without effort through the
enchanted wood in the luminous green gloom that filled it, lulled by the
swaying motion of the elephant's stride. The soothing silence of the
woodland was broken only by the crowing of a jungle cock. The thick,

leafy screen overhead excluded the glare of the tropic sunlight; and the
heat was tempered to a welcome coolness by the dense shade.
But, despite the soporific motion of his huge charger, Dermot's vigilant
eye searched the apparently lifeless jungle as he was borne along.
Presently it was caught by a warm patch of colour, the bright chestnut
hide of a deer; and he detected among the trees the graceful form of a
sambhur hind. Accustomed to seeing wild elephants the animal gazed
without apprehension at Badshah and failed to mark the man on his
neck. But females of the deer tribe are sacred to the sportsman; and the
hunter passed on. Half a mile farther on, in the deepest shadow of the
undergrowth, he saw something darker still. It was the dull black hide
of a sambhur stag, a fine beast fourteen hands high, with sharp brow
antlers and thick horns branching into double points. Knowing the
value of motionlessness as a concealment the animal never moved; and
only an eye trained to the jungle would have detected it. Dermot noted
it, but let it remain unscathed; for he knew well the exceeding
toughness of its flesh. What he sought was a kakur, or barking deer, a
much smaller but infinitely more palatable beast.
Hours passed; and he and Badshah had wandered for miles without
finding what he wanted. He looked at his watch; for the sun was
invisible. It was nearly noon. In a space free from undergrowth he
halted the elephant and, patting the skull with his open hand, said:
"Buth!"
Badshah at the word sank slowly down until he rested on his breast and
belly with fore and hind legs stuck out stiffly along the ground. Dermot
slipped off his neck and stretched his cramped limbs; for sitting long
upright on an elephant without any support to the back is tiring. Then
he reclined under a tree with his loaded rifle beside him--for the
peaceful-seeming forest has its dangers. He made a frugal lunch off a
packet of sandwiches from his haversack.
Eating made him thirsty. He had forgotten to bring his water-bottle
with him; and he knew that there was no stream to be met with in the
jungle for many miles. But he was aware that the forest could supply

his wants. Rising, he drew his kukri and looked around him. Among the
tangle of creepers festooned between the trees he detected the writhing
coils of one with withered, cork-like bark, four-sided and about two
inches in diameter. He walked over to it and, grasping it in his left hand,
cut it through with a blow of his heavy knife. Its interior consisted of a
white, moist pulp. With another blow he severed a piece a couple of
feet long. Taking a metal cup from his haversack he cut the length of
creeper into small pieces and held