of the
way. The mahouts were amazed--Neela Deo did not fight! Neela Deo was
the Lord of peaceful rule!

Many of the fighting pairs broke away from each other, when they heard
Neela Deo's charging challenge, as if agreeing that the destiny of all
hung on the issue of his contest. This left most of the mahouts free to
watch. With passionate distress they saw the King--wounded almost to
death less than four months since--carrying a heavy howdah and three
men--going in to fight with a bad elephant who was all but fresh. They
cursed the wild elephant with every inward breath, seeing as little hope
for Neela Deo as they had seen for Gunpat Rao.

The Gul Moti watched--appalled. It seemed to her that the pale one had
been playing--before he engaged with Neela Deo. But he did not play any
more. He manoeuvred so fast that his body appeared to glance in and out.
But Neela Deo foiled him with still greater speed. Her eye could not
follow all--the maze, the glamour, the incredible spectacle.

Neela Deo's first blow had shaken the pale one, carrying a different
dimension of force from any in himself. He gave way--backing from it
with an angry scream, showing surprise and rage in every movement. When
he circled round, trying to get in on Neela Deo's side, the King was too
quick for him--forcing him out, forcing him further out; not permitting
him to follow his chosen course, whatever direction he took. He came in
with his peculiar art of approaches--the jarring blow was there! He
played all his lightning feints--the shock that rocked him was a flash
quicker! Neela Deo met him squarely, whatever curve he made--whatever
tangent he turned upon. This, every time, in spite of himself; for he
always meant to avoid that crash!

He tried his falsetto squeals--all aggravation in them. But Neela Deo
refused to accept taunts. This caused an instant's pause--the pale one
seeming to consider. Then he raced away and came back on a full drive,
as if meaning to meet the King in a legitimate encounter--after all. But
Neela Deo only lowered his head a fraction, leaning a bit forward; and
the pale one, instead of finishing straight, or passing alongside close
enough to strike--swerved out. This was the moment when Neela Deo
charged him and he ran, dodging--far beyond the range of the fighting
arena--down the khud valley. Everyone followed; the wild elephants
running by themselves--screaming in harsh tones; the caravan--trumpetin