Pelts 



surprise I find that the lunch-elephant had come 

 up between me and the nearest of the beaters — • 

 the men on her in a state of wild excitement, and 

 apparently in ignorance of, or oblivious to, the 

 fact that they were on a beast who had the repu- 

 tation of being a confirmed bolter, and would no 

 more face a tiger than a jungle fire. 



Another patch of thick, tall grass, and as I 

 ranged alongside it on the road there was a sharp 

 rush. Strive as I would, I could see nothing — 

 nothing at all. Another rush ! 



The grass was like a thick yellow wall, into 

 which I dare not fire without being perfectly sure 

 of my target. Suddenly wild pandemonium, and 

 out of the grass just behind me dashes the lunch- 

 elephant, his mahout cursing and exhorting and 

 hammering and digging in his iron goad all in 

 vain. On top is a swaying mass of lunch-boxes 

 and baskets and men — their eyeballs start- 

 ing out of their sockets, their snow-white pagris 

 either off or flung in long streamers to the wind, 

 each hair of their beards sticking straight out in 

 their terror, whilst interspersed with prayers to 

 Allah and Bap re Baps are frantic objurgations to 

 the mahout to urge his beast to greater en- 

 deavours for the Shaitan of a yellow devil was 

 after them all, and would surely get up among 

 them. 



I don't think I have ever laughed so much in my 

 life. The back view of that elephant doing time 



