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Updated: June 20, 2025
He wanted to know what the priests of Hanuman know about monkeys; and what mahouts of famous elephants like Neela Deo and Mithi Baba and Gunpat Rao of the Chief Commissioner's stockades, know about elephants. At this point one reflection was irresistible. The priests of Hanuman gave all they had care, patience, tenderness, even their lives, to the monkey people.
Once in the dark after a ford, when Nels had rushed along the left bank to find the scent, Gunpat Rao plunged straight on to the right without waiting; and the mahout sang his praises with low but fiery intensity: "He is coming. He is coming into his own!" "What do you mean, Chakkra? Make it clear to me who have not many words of Hindi "
Gunpat Rao seemed gradually overcoming obstructions; as if his great idea mounted and cleared, his body requiring time to strike its rhythm. Chakkra sang to him. The sun became hotter and higher until it hung at the very top of the universe and forgot nothing. There was a stillness in the hills that would frighten anything but a fever bird to silence.
Nels was a phantom of grey before them in the shadows, leisurely showing his powers. At times, while he ranged far ahead, they would not hear him for several minutes; then possibly a half-humorous sniff in the immediate dark, and they knew the big fellow waited for Gunpat Rao to catch up. Once he was lost ahead so long that Skag spoke: "Nels "
If you answer at all to an expression which at best only intimates the smell of living dust you will have something of the thing that Skag sensed in the emanation of Gunpat Rao, warming to action. Occasionally as they crossed the streams there was delay in finding the trail on the other side.
As the moments of waiting at the edge of the jungle passed, it dawned upon him that something had happened, or Carlin already would be with him, at least crossing the big sun-shot area from the walled city. . . . What had happened is this story of the monster Kabuli, which is an animal story even without the entrance of the racing elephant, Gunpat Rao.
It was a turmoil that looked and sounded like nothing imaginable. The fighting pairs were choosing each other and taking place. They had plenty of room. When it was settled between them, Nut Kut was facing the most powerful-looking of the wild fighters; and Gunpat Rao, another who looked almost as dangerous.
When the caravan appeared, the males were leading; the four females well in the rear. Nut Kut's flaming orange and imperial-blue trappings covered and cumbered him; and young Gunpat Rao's gorgeous saffron and old-rose burned through the Gul Moti's eyes to the hard lump in her throat it was the one time in their lives when they should be free.
Yet from time to time with a glance at the gun-case at his feet, he spoke with cold clearness: "We must overtake them before night." Chakkra, who had ceased singing, would bow, saying: "The trail is hot, Sahib. They are not far." Steadily beneath them, Gunpat Rao straightened out, lengthening his roll, softening his pitch. Nels was not trotting now, but in a long low run.
Would the Sahib bear in mind that an elephant continues to increase in strength and wisdom for an hundred years? And now would he consider Gunpat Rao's size the perfection of his shape? Might not such a Prince claim relationship to such a King?
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