22 The Life of an Elephant 



the tiny notes, flashed with every eddy in the 

 breeze. 



The house of the headman of the village 

 was noticeable for its superior size and cleanli- 

 ness. It stood towards 

 the centre of the village, 

 and near the travellers' 

 shelter, where all who 

 journeyed were welcome 

 to rest and break their 

 fast. To one side, under 

 a small open shed, stood the war drum, a vast 

 metal bowl covered with skin, whose sonorous 

 booming in olden times re-echoed through the 

 hills when the clans were called to battle, but 

 which was now used chiefly as an alarm in 

 case of fire or of attack from midnight robbers. 



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At its sound every able-bodied man would 

 seize his arms and rally to the call, while 

 women and children would take whatever 

 weapon came to hand, spear or knife, and, 

 pulling up the ladder affording access to the 

 homestead, would defend themselves as best 

 they might against intruders. Here, too, the 



