and
laughter and pandemonium of demonstrations, mostly without meaning to
me, till I climbed down and saw the remains of what must have been a
prime Bengali tiger--under his feet.

"It had charged his neck and gotten a hold and eaten in for the big
blood-drink. It had gripped and clung with its four feet--there are
ghastly enough wounds--but the hole it chewed in his neck is hideous.

"He poured blood in a shocking stream till they checked it with some
kind of jungle leaves and their turbans. And you see--he's groggy.
He's quite liable to stagger to his knees any moment. If he gets in to
his own stockades, there may be a chance for him; but he doesn't look
it just now. Still, I fancy they're keeping him up rather. Eh? Oh
yes, quite so."

The Chief Commissioner wiped his forehead patiently, before he went on:

"You're an extraordinary young man, Sir. I've heard about you; the
people call you Son-of-Power. You haven't interrupted me once--not one
in twenty could have done it. I'm glad to know you."

This was spoken very rapidly and Skag smiled:

"I'm interested."

The Chief Commissioner's eyes bored into Skag with almost impersonal
penetration, till the young American knew why this big Englishman's
name was one to conjure with. Then he went on:

"Yes, we'll have much in common. You see, I'm working it out in my own
mind. . . . The curious part of it all is, they say an elephant has
never been known to behave in this manner before. The mahouts seem to
understand; I don't. This I do know: When a tiger charges an
elephant's neck, the elephant's way is--if the tiger has gotten in past
the thrust of his head--to plunge dead weight against a big tree, an
upstanding rock, or lacking these--the ground. In that case he always
rolls. You see where I would have been very much mixed with the tiger.

"In this case, Neela Deo measured his balance on a swing and when he
found how far he dare go, he took his chance and struck the cat off
with his own front leg. It's past belief if you know an elephant's
anatomy."

The Chief Commissioner broke off. Neela Deo had lurched and was
wavering, as if about to go down. The sense of tears was in Kudrat
Sharif's voice; but it loomed into courage, as it chanted the superior
excellence of Neela Deo's attributes.

Then Neela Deo braced himself and went on, but more slowly. The big
Englishman smiled tenderly:

"He's a white-wizard, is Kudrat Sharif--that mahout! He d