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"Two days ago at this time. I waited only to burn the body of my son, and hastened hither for my vengeance." "But it is impossible, Maharaj. Kunwar Sher Singh has been ill in bed since he arrived here." "Has he?" The Rani's laugh rang out shrill and terrible. "It is easy to deceive some men. Let Jirad Sahib send now for Sher Singh, and see if he comes."
There was a glint in her deep eyes as she regarded Saxham's thorough handiwork that told her approval of castigation well deserved. Then: "Maharaj! Oh, Maharaj! Succour in calamity! Aid for the dying! Hai, hai, behold how I bleed!"
After the bath there was usually a struggle with Maharaj, who, directly he was clean, wanted to plaster himself all over with wet mud to keep cool and defy mosquitoes. This he was not allowed to do, so he tore a branch from a neem-tree instead, and fanned himself all the way home.
Tippoo, who was nearest the elephant, ran also, and Alec was about to run when he saw Maharaj single out Tippoo and chase him.
Maharaj didn't like Piroo at all, and made a fuss at having to go without the mahout, for which he got a hot scolding. Then there were tears and pet names and much coaxing before Maharaj consented to go.
He was, after a time, himself again, but a wiser man, and Maharaj was not shot after all. Yet the boys do not like to think of that adventure even to-day.
They took their time to cook, for the fireplace was small, being only three bricks standing on the ground. When they were ready he placed the cakes before Maharaj, who eyed them suspiciously. "He has been listening," explained the driver. "Those big ears of his can hear talk a mile away. Go on, my son, eat. What is there wrong with the food?"
Then that strange old sannyásí laughed like a hyæna, and he said: Maháráj, be not afraid any longer of my eye: for this time I shall consume thee with flame of quite another kind, in the form of a kiss that I have brought thee, from a beauty almost equal to thy own, with eyes that resemble the gazelle, and lips that are redder than her own heart's blood.
And I reached my house, and looked, and lo! there was sitting at the door a Rajpoot, covered with the desert's dust, and holding by the rein a horse that hung its head, trembling still, and white with foam. And as I came towards him, he stood up, and made obeisance. And he said: Maháráj, thou art come at last, and it was time. And I said: What is the matter?
The old mahout, in alarm, staggered to the door, and saw the body at the feet of Maharaj and the crimson stains upon the trunk and feet of the elephant. "Ahhi! ahhi! ahhi!" cried the old man aloud, "what madness is this? What hast thou done, my son? Now they will shoot thee without doubt thy life for his, and he was not worth his salt. Ahhi! ahhi!"
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