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Updated: May 10, 2025
The hair was dull brown, with an overcast of pale flame on it; the skin too white. But the eyes held Skag. They were pure grey, full of smouldering shadows and high lights forever contending with each other. At this moment the boy was leaning his head toward the road, listening. "She's petulant to-day, the lady!" he chuckled. "Wait till you see Mitha Baba, Skag Sahib."
. . . A rending, tearing noise broke in on Mitha Baba's voice; and at once a great crash among the trees, high up. . . . The keen squeal of a very little elephant right near and the angry protest of a strange voice. . . . It must be imagination this strong nearness! The Gul Moti, putting out her hand, touched skin!
And within the same breath, on both sides of Mitha Baba first this side and then that side two great elephants challenged each other. They were both long, rocking blasts, a little above and almost against the Gul Moti's quickened ears. She shivered under the shock.
All generations after us shall hear of him; but we have looked upon his face!" "Neela Deo, Neela Deo, King of all elephants!" The Lair Carlin appeared to get right again in a few days of quiet after her terrific experience on Mitha Baba. There were a few more wonderful weeks for Skag and herself in the Malcolm M'Cord bungalow in Hurda weeks always remembered.
But the outline of it, in the shadows, appeared too lean to be one of her own. Soon after that, Mitha Baba trumpeted in a new tone of voice one the Gul Moti had never heard before. It sounded very wild, very desolate. "In the name of all the gods, Mitha Baba, what's the meaning of that?" the Gul Moti enquired with a little tension it being one of those moments when one gains assurance by speech.
As Mitha Baba drove at him and Nut Kut turned his tusk ripped out sidewise. With a frantic scream he got away, running up into the jungle still screaming so far as they could hear. The Gul Moti, numb with weariness, had held on with her last ounce of strength. Now she sat amazed at her escape while a tumult of trumpeting shattered the air about her.
But Mitha Baba's reply was in the very oldest language of India one even the mahouts know only a very little of. It rose in wild, wistful tones higher and higher. It was repeated from time to time; the sense of it strangely thrilling to the girl on her neck.
Then Son-of-Power was on his feet, but it was too late Mitha Baba decided quickly and she acted soon he could not reach the edge in time to go himself, but on an impulse he threw his great-coat into the Gul Moti's hands and she laughed as she caught it from the howdah.
In swerving suddenly to pass close by the stand, the elephant had unbalanced her boy-mahout from her neck; but his father the very old mahout was coming as fast as he could across the space before them, calling to her like the lover of wild creatures that he was. Carlin bent from her howdah and spoke joyously: "Put him up, Mitha Baba, put him up!"
Surely the Gul Moti had known that this was a wild elephant herd these hours. Surely the Gul Moti had heard the "toiling" of them in! But what was Mitha Baba going to do with them now that she had them?
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