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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.
"It is my shame that there is no howdah on him to carry you; we came like flight, when Nut Kut's escape was known," Kudrat Sharif apologised. "But after some days, when Nut Kut's excitement sleeps, we shall be distinguished if Son-of-Power chooses to come to the stockades and consider him.
"But you will always be known to Indians of India as Son-of-Power!" Kudrat Sharif protested. "It is a lofty title, yet you have established it before many." Just then a great elephant came near, playfully reaching for Kudrat Sharif with his trunk. "And this is Neela Deo, the leader of the caravan!" laughed Horace.
Kudrat Sharif smiled with frank affection on the boy, as he drew his right hand away, to touch his forehead in the Indian salaam. The gesture showed both grace and dignity as Dickson Sahib had said. "I am exalted to carry back to my stockades the story of the manner of your work, Son-of-Power," he began. "My name is Sanford Hantee," Skag deprecated gently.
And Mitha Baba scarcely broke her stride, which was lengthening every step, as she obediently circled the old man with her trunk and carelessly flung him on her neck. "We'll fetch them all home!" the Gul Moti's voice floated back, as they melted away into the night. The Chief Commissioner gave Son-of-Power his hand being without words, for the moment. "Is she safe?" Skag asked.
The master-mahout smiled a mystic-musical smile, like his voice. "I have come from my place for a moment," he said, looking intently into Skag's eyes, "for a purpose. We have heard of you, Son-of-Power. The wisdom of the ages is to know the instant when to act; not too late, not too soon.
They shared their garlands with him, that he should not come into Neela Deo's presence with empty hands; and they exulted because he ran with them, for the fame of Son-of-Power was already established. At the margins of the true jungle, a high-tenor voice came out to meet them.
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.
The servant had never seen such a spectacle the Hakima sitting with Hand-of-a-God and Son-of-Power, together on the lawn already wet with dew their knees almost touching. . . . "The like's not been known before, Lad even of a man with a sword," Malcolm M'Cord was saying. "You must have stood up to him two minutes.
They thronged out the great Highway-of-all-India, meeting the caravan where the slow-moving elephants turned in from open jungle. Eagerly striving to see the Gul Moti's face, eagerly pointing at Neela Deo, yet it was a stranger silent multitude. Only many tears on many tears showed their feeling. The Gul Moti sat in Neela Deo's howdah, with the Chief Commissioner and Son-of-Power.
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