Jack Haydon's Quest

CHAPTER XX.

In the centre of the space were ranged sixty dancing girls, in ten rows of six in a row, and each dancer stood at an equal distance from her next neighbour on either hand. Each girl was dressed in beautiful silks of the most glowing, or the most delicate shades. Her short embroidered jacket, her tightly folded skirt, were of the brightest and newest, and her hair was decked with beautiful flowers.

The dance began, and the graceful swaying movements, to which the clink of the bangles worn in rows on every arm kept time, were full of fascination and charm. All round the open space the villagers from far and near were gathered, and this mass of spectators in strange garbs, but everything of the freshest and gayest, formed a striking setting for the scene.

When the dance was over, the headman, through Me Dain, begged them to inspect the pagoda and the offerings which had been brought to it by the faithful. They went and saw a very quaint and beautiful structure, its columns inlaid with mosaics and coloured glass which glittered with a thousand glancing rays in the lights of the myriads of lamps. Chief among the offerings at the shrine were huge packets of gold-leaf, for the religious Burman loves to decorate his favourite pagoda with sheets of gold-leaf, till it glistens in the sun like a palace of gold.

Among the offerings ranged on the steps of the pagoda was a native painting, a quaint piece of work which drew Jack's attention at once. He bent down to look at it, while his companions rambled on with Me Dain and the headman.

As Jack straightened himself again, he felt a light touch on his arm, and looked round. Beside him stood a dancing girl, wrapped in a close-fitting robe of yellow silk, and a scarf of muslin so wound about her head that he could not see her face.

Jack stared for a moment in surprise, wondering what the girl could want with him, then he gave a great start as she began to speak. She used the softest, gentlest whisper, but her voice came easily to his ears, and, marvellous to relate, she spoke in perfect English.

"I know what you seek," she said, "and I can help you."

Jack's surprise was so great that, for a moment, he could not answer, and the veiled figure went on:

"Would you not like to know where the object of your search is?"

"How do you know that I seek someone?" said Jack in wonder.

"Oh, I know," murmured the dancing girl with a soft, light laugh. "I will go a little further. Would you not like to know where your father, Thomas Haydon, is imprisoned, and what is happening to him?"

For a moment the whole glittering scene of lamps and gaiety went round before Jack's eyes. Then he pulled himself up steady once more. This savoured of the utterly marvellous, that a dancing girl in this village which he had never seen before, should glide up to him and tell him the innermost secret of his heart, the purpose of his quest.

"Who are you, and how did you come to know such things?" said Jack.

"Oh," said the girl lightly, "in this strange land we can do many strange things. But I cannot talk to you long. Do you wish, I ask you once more, to gain tidings of your father?"

"There is nothing I wish for more upon earth," returned Jack earnestly, for it was idle to pretend that the girl was wrong, and try to hide his secret. It was known only too clearly to this strange creature in the yellow robe, with a score of silver bangles tinkling on her arm. Jack turned his head towards his companions who had strolled on, and were now a dozen yards away, and half hidden by a group of villagers standing before the shrine.

"No," said the girl, laying her hand on Jack's arm, "no, you must not call to them. I do not wish to talk to your Burman guide. It would place me in great danger if it became known that I had warned you. If you do not listen to me, and alone, I shall vanish into the crowd, and you will never see me again, or learn that which you long to know."

The girl's hint that she stood in danger by warning him, at once checked the call on Jack's lips. He looked at her keenly, but could only see a pair of lustrous eyes flashing through the folds of delicate muslin, her features he could not make out at all. His brain was in a whirl. Here seemed a most extraordinary, a most wonderful chance to gain news of his father, but at the same time his reason bade him be careful.

Suppose he were to seize the girl and declare that she must tell him at once what she knew? But Jack's feelings revolted at such conduct. Suppose she should come into danger by his doing so, by his making public the fact that she was warning him? No, he could not do that. Besides, they were but a few strangers amid a great concourse of natives. Such an action might give great offence, and place, not only himself, but his friends in a position of the utmost peril.

These thoughts went through Jack's head in a flash. The girl at his side gave another light laugh.

"You can find out all you want in so simple a fashion," she murmured. "Turn your head to the right, and near a patch of acacia bushes you will see a monk with his begging-bowl. Cross over to him, and drop a piece of money into the bowl. At the same moment you can take out of it the letter which your father has sent to you by his hands. I would fetch it for you, but he will not give it up to anyone but you."

This became more and more bewildering, but at the same time, Jack saw that this matter was very simply settled. He looked away to the right, and saw the monk plainly enough, a Buddhist monk in yellow robe, his begging dish of bronze held out before him. The man stood upright and motionless, not thirty yards away.

Jack turned on his heel and strode straight across towards the monk, resolved to see at any rate what was in the dish. The dancing girl followed him with graceful, swaying step.

At the instant that Jack moved towards the monk a fresh band of revellers came out of a path leading from the acacia bushes and crossed towards the steps of the pagoda. From among them a tall, thin man dressed in white robes stepped out and moved with long, soft strides after the young Englishman. His companions lingered and stared idly about them.

As Jack approached the monk, he saw the latter raise his head and glance at him meaningly. Then, with a slight movement of the hand, the monk pointed to the bottom of his bowl. Jack had taken a rupee from his pocket and stretched out his hand to drop it into the bowl. As he did so he glanced eagerly into the bronze vessel. A folded piece of white paper lay in the bottom of it. Jack dropped his coin and stretched out his hand to seize the paper. But he never touched it.

"I don't see him anywhere about," said Buck, in an uneasy voice, and he walked rapidly back. He came to the picture, stopped in front of it, and looked eagerly round for Jack. He saw the band of singers a short distance away, but took no notice of them. He had seen scores of such bands during the evening. Little did he dream that, under cover of those harmless looking revellers, the body of his young comrade was being dragged among the acacia bushes by the monk and the dancing girl.

CHAPTER XXI.

Jack raised his voice and shouted. He could not move, but his throat was free. Twice or thrice he shouted the names of his companions. The only answer to his call was a light mocking laugh outside the door, which swung half open straight before him. Then a figure appeared in the doorway, a figure in a tight yellow robe and short embroidered jacket, the dancing girl who had ensnared him. But even as he opened his mouth eagerly to speak to her, he was silenced. The figure was drawing aside the muslin veil from its head. As the soft shimmering folds of the delicate wrapper slipped away, Jack's heart leaped within him. He knew that face. This was no dancing girl. It was the half-caste in disguise. It was Saya Chone, the man who had stopped him on Rushmere Heath, the man who had slipped out of his clutch at Brindisi.

"Ah," said the half-caste, squatting down in front of Jack, "I have no need to ask if you know me. I see recognition in your astonished face. Well, does it now surprise you that a dancing girl should know so much of your business up in these hills?"

"So it was you, you rascal, was it?" said Jack, drawing a deep breath. "You, all the time."

"I, all the time," chuckled the half-caste, clicking consonants between his teeth.

"If you'd have spoken out, I should have known you," said Jack.

"Ah, possibly," said Saya Chone; "but then for my purpose the soft voice, the gentle whisper, was the only thing."

"What do you mean by this, and what do you want with me?" demanded Jack.

"Orders, orders, I am acting under orders," murmured the half-caste, waving his brown hand in the air. "And I do not want you at all. It is merely my business to hand you over to my patron U Saw. It is he who wants you, not I."

"And what does he want me for?" said Jack.

"Ah," murmured Saya Chone, "that I shall not tell you now. It is not good for the servants of U Saw to interfere too much in their master's business. Well, I must prepare for the march."

He clapped his hands, and a tall, thin man in white robes came in. Saya Chone said a few words to the newcomer, and the latter sat down and fixed his dark, menacing eyes on Jack.

"This is a Malay, who is entirely devoted to U Saw's service," said the half-caste, with an evil grin. "He is a very useful man, for he is absolutely the cleverest hand with the strangling noose that I have ever known. I believe he could strangle a child in its mother's arms and she would know nothing about it. You have already had a slight taste of his skill on two occasions. Once on that heath in your queer, cold England, and again to-night. But as he was under strict orders on both occasions not to take your life, he spared you the last touch of his art, that sharp, neat twist which breaks his victim's spinal column as if he was snapping a bit of dry stick."

Saya Chone turned to go, but paused at the door and looked over his shoulder.

"I heard you shouting as I came in," he said. "If you have a fancy for that amusement, pray shout as much as you like. But I ought to warn you that it is a pure waste of breath. We have carried you nearly a couple of miles into the jungle, and fifty times the uproar you could make would be quite useless to attract attention."

He left the hut, and Jack sat back against the post to think over his desperate situation. He had fallen into the hands of the very people that he and his comrades were trying to circumvent. How they had discovered their line of march, and been enabled to lay this clever trap for him, he could not imagine. But one thing he saw clearly, that U Saw's arm was very long in this country, and that his net for information was spread abroad very widely and very successfully.

He looked across at the Strangler, and found the dark bright eyes of the Malay fixed intently upon him. Jack had been thinking to test the strength of the knots and the cords which bound him, but in the presence of this keen watchman it was useless, and he bent down his eyes in thought once more.

"I am to be carried to U Saw," he thought. "Then my father must be there already. At any rate I shall see him, I hope, and find out what has happened to him, and how he has been treated."

Several hours now passed in complete silence. Jack's bonds chafed him miserably, but he could do nothing to relieve himself, and the Malay watched him with fierce alertness at every moment. Then the ricketty door was jerked open again, and Saya Chone came in.

"It is the dark hour before the dawn," he laughed jeeringly. "A capital time to slip away while all the revellers are sleeping, and the forest paths are empty. Your conveyance awaits you, my lord."

He said two words to the Strangler, and drew a revolver from beneath his jacket. He had thrown aside his disguise as a dancing girl, and now appeared in the rich tartan silk kilt, the jacket, and turban-like head-dress of a prosperous Burman.

"Get up," he said curtly to Jack, while the Strangler unfastened the rope which bound the captive's feet and also that which bound his body to the post.

Jack got up, and Saya Chone motioned to him to go outside, and Jack went, with the Malay and the half-caste in close attendance. Resistance was impossible. His hands were still bound behind his back, and the half-caste held a big, blue "Smith and Wesson" within two inches of his ear.

In front of the hut loomed up a huge beast looking monstrous in the light of a couple of lanterns held by attendants. It was an elephant, and a ladder was placed against the open howdah fixed on its back; the great beast was swinging trunk and tail impatiently, and its driver was already seated behind the huge head.

"Up with you," said Saya Chone. Jack glanced round, and saw nothing but dark, fierce, inimical faces all about him.

"No chance in the world at present," he thought, and began slowly to climb the ladder. It was very awkward work with no hand free, but the Strangler stretched out a long arm, supported him to the top rung, then thrust him violently forward, so that Jack rolled into the howdah. It was the simplest form of this kind of carriage, and was exactly like a huge open basket of strong wicker-work fastened on the elephant's back. Before Jack could recover himself from his fall, the Malay and two other men bounded into the howdah, and flung themselves on the prisoner. In a trice they had strapped his ankles together again. Then they swung him into a sitting posture, and lashed his arms firmly to the back of the howdah.

Next they descended, another figure leapt up, and the ladder was taken away. The newcomer gave an order, and the elephant driver spoke to his huge beast in a low voice. The elephant at once swung forward, and in a moment the hut and its lanterns were left behind, and they were moving through the darkness of the jungle.

Jack had known by the voice that it was the half-caste who was his companion in the howdah, but he said nothing, and Saya Chone, too, was silent. Soon the half-caste lighted a huge Burmese cheroot, and in the light, almost the flare, of this immense cigar, nine or ten inches long and an inch thick, Jack saw now and again his beardless brown face, his big, shining, evil eyes.

When the dawn came and Jack could look about him, they were traversing a narrow path through jungle so thick that the sky could scarcely be seen overhead.

"Ah," said Saya Chone, breaking the silence at last, "you may look round, my lord, but you will never be able to keep in mind the details of the route. I shall take you into the hills by paths so hidden in the jungle or along ravines so deep that to track you will be impossible."

Jack was silent for a moment. Then he spoke. "Shall I see my father?" he asked.

Saya Chone laughed. "You will see what U Saw wills that you shall see," he said mockingly. "I am U Saw's humble servant, and can say no more."

Jack made no reply. He was sorry he had spoken, but the question had slipped out on the impulse of the moment.

All that day they travelled on, and at night they camped in a hollow among the rocks at the foot of a tall cliff. Jack was not ill-treated, and plenty of food was given to him, but the keenest watch was kept upon his every movement, and escape was a thing altogether beyond his reach. His captors were six in number, including the man who drove the elephant. The driver and Saya Chone were Jack's companions on the great beast, and when they were on the move the captive was always lashed tightly to the framework of the howdah. The other four, the Malay and three companions, rode the strong, nimble ponies of the country. The baggage of the party was conveyed on a pack-pony, and they travelled at a good speed.

On the second morning, Saya Chone sat on the edge of the howdah, purring at his huge cheroot, while the Strangler and a companion lashed Jack into position. The half-caste had been superintending the operation with his revolver at Jack's ear, until the knots were tight, and our hero could not move.

"This is a very good idea, indeed," he murmured, "this carrying of a prisoner in a howdah on a pad-elephant. I had an idea it would be a success, but it is better than I thought. It is a neat, little, portable prison. It is far better than tying the feet of an active young man under a pony's barrel. The young man may dig his heels in and gallop off after all. But tied up in a howdah he is quite safe."

Jack paid no attention whatever to the half-caste's sneers and jeers: he had resolved to take his gruel without whining, and he bore everything in stoical silence.

Two hours' march brought them to a clearing in the jungle, and the road ran between small paddy-fields. This meant that a native village was near at hand, and Jack looked out for the slight huts of reed and cane in which the villagers lived. To his surprise he saw nothing. And not to his surprise alone. He could not understand the words used by his companions, but he saw plainly that they were puzzled about something. Then the cries of wonder broke out loudly as they passed a grove of bamboos and came upon a scene of extraordinary destruction. The native village had been built in shelter of the bamboos, only a little place, a cluster of fifteen or twenty huts. But every house lay in ruins as if the place had been knocked about the villagers' ears with a huge flail. Near at hand a man lay dead, his body horribly crushed and battered. No sign of life was to be observed about the place.

But while the travellers stared in wonder on the havoc which had been made, they were suddenly attacked by the author of it, and knew that their own lives were in deadly peril. There was a terrific crashing among the bamboos, and then a huge, dark object was seen to be bursting a way through the tall stems. All but Jack knew at once what it meant; he was enlightened in an instant.

"A 'rogue' elephant! A 'rogue' elephant!" cried Saya Chone, and the driver urged the pad-elephant forward with voice and spear.

Then Jack understood. His father had told him many times how that a big, savage male will often leave a herd of wild elephants, take up a solitary life in the jungle, and become a "rogue." There is no more terrible beast to be met with. His enormous size and strength, his terrible ferocity, make him the king of the jungle. He attacks all he meets, and tramples every foe under his huge feet.

This "rogue" had evidently been attracted to the clearing by the paddy-fields, where the elephant loves to feed. Then, irritated probably by some attempt of the natives to drive him away, he had attacked their village and swept it out of existence. Now he was charging savagely upon the newcomers.

He came at them across the open with terrific speed. Jack had not the faintest idea that so ponderous a beast could move at such a pace, and he stared with fascinated eyes at the extraordinary sight. The "rogue" was an immense tusker, a big, wild, savage-looking brute, who charged with up-lifted trunk, and now trumpeted with so tremendous a note that the jungle and the hill-sides rang with the hoarse thunder. His course was laid straight for the men in front, two of the attendants on ponies. The Malay, the remaining attendant, and the pack-pony were behind the pad-elephant.

The ponies, obedient to their riders, had at first bounded forward, but when that frightful trumpeting broke out, and they saw the huge tusker thundering upon them, they were seized with such fear that they stopped and stood still, trembling in every limb. Before their riders could urge them on, the immense brute was upon them. One of the riders, a bold fellow, stood up in the stirrups, and struck at the "rogue" with his dah. But he might as well have struck with a straw. The monster literally swept the two ponies down in his stride, trampling them under foot in his frightful charge. The man who had used his heavy sword to so little effect, went down with his pony. The second man had leapt from his saddle, and he ran at full speed for a teak tree, intending to swarm up its trunk.

His flying figure caught the eye of the "rogue" just as he was about to turn and trample on those he had hurled to the ground. Now the savage brute strode on, and it was seen how swift was his great lumbering stride. He caught the man up, long before the fugitive was anywhere near the tree, and hurled him to the ground with a stroke of his tusk. Then he pulled up and deliberately knelt down on the unlucky wretch, who screamed horribly as his life was crushed out of him by the tremendous weight of the gigantic beast.

CHAPTER XXII.

The ponies had both been trodden on in that terrific charge, and the man, untouched by the elephant, had been flung three or four yards, and lay half-stunned by his fall. As he scrambled to his feet the "rogue" was upon him. With a scream of rage the maddened brute bent down his huge head and delivered a sweeping stroke with his tusk. The great sharp spear of ivory struck the man in the back and was driven clean through the body. The elephant raised his head and swung the man high above the ground. Jack shuddered as he saw the writhing figure impaled on that huge tusk.

For a moment the elephant held his victim aloft as if in triumph, then with a swing of his head he hurled the man far away, and looked round for fresh victims. At the next moment the earth shook under his tread as he thundered down upon the pad-elephant and the burden it bore.

"Cut me loose!" roared Jack to the half-caste. "What chance have I got, tied to this howdah?"

But Saya Chone, ashen with fear, clung to the edge of the car, and had eyes and ears for nothing save for the great beast charging full upon them. Jack hurled himself to and fro, trying to slacken a little the bonds which held him a prisoner under such fearful circumstances. If the pad-elephant would only make a fight of it, there would be a chance for its riders to slip down and escape, but how could Jack help himself?

As the "rogue" made his last few sweeping strides upon them, the pad-elephant seemed to pluck up the courage of desperation. He was a fine, big, powerful fellow, though not equal in size to his wild enemy, and now he took a step or two forward, threw out his huge forehead, and met his enemy in full career.

The crash as the two huge beasts charged into each other was tremendous. The pad-elephant was driven back half a dozen yards, but he kept his feet. Then the two immense creatures, head braced to head and tusks locked in tusks, began a steady trial of strength, each striving to force the other back.

Now Saya Chone plucked out his heavy revolver, and, leaning over the edge of the howdah, began to fire swiftly into the head and body of the savage "rogue." But though the bullets cut deeply into the flesh, and the blood spouted freely, the big brute troubled nothing about that. As far as reaching any vital part went, the revolver might have been a pop-gun, and the wild elephant gave himself up entirely to the struggle with his tame brother.

In a few minutes it was seen that he was carrying the day. The pad-elephant, with deep grunts of anger and fear, began to give way before the fierce strength and impetuosity of his terrible opponent. Jack looked round and saw that they were alone; the Malay and the fourth attendant had fled from the place.

Then, at the next moment, the elephant under them gave up the fight. He suddenly backed off, turned, and lumbered across the clearing in full flight. The "rogue" threw up his trunk, and trumpeted a roar of victory, then dashed after the pad-elephant in savage pursuit. He was much swifter, and soon came up on the flank where Jack, by turning his head, had him in full view. Jack saw the small, fierce eyes burning with fury, and then the head was bent and the great forehead was driven against the flying enemy. The shock was such that the pad-elephant was driven to its knees, the driver was hurled over its head, and Saya Chone flung headlong out of the car. Jack alone remained in the howdah, held fast by his bonds.

Again the "rogue" elephant charged his enemy, and now the latter was flung over on to its side, and the rim of the howdah brushed the ground. Jack looked up in despair. The vast bulk of the infuriated elephant hung right over him as the "rogue" prepared to trample upon the foe whom he had hurled to the ground. In vain did Jack dash himself to and fro in his bonds; he was fastened only too securely, and he knew that the least stroke of the foot now raised above his head would crush him as surely as a steam-hammer would crush a nut. At the next second Jack saw a gleaming white tusk dart down towards him as the "rogue" bent his head and struck.

The tusk went through the howdah within six inches of Jack's leg, and was buried deep in the back of the pad-elephant Then the "rogue," as he withdrew the dripping spear of ivory, caught sight of something and turned his wicked little eyes on it. He saw the driver and Saya Chone at some little distance running for their lives, and his fickle fancy turned to the thoughts of making short work of them before he finished with his tame brother.

Away he went in pursuit of this new object, and the pad-elephant scrambled to its feet, and stood for a few moments as if bewildered and uncertain what to do. During these few moments Jack saw the driver caught and felled to earth by the huge beast before whose savage might all stood helpless. Saya Chone had far outrun his companion, and the half-caste disappeared among the trees as the "rogue" began to trample upon the driver, whose frightful screams were silenced as both breath and life itself were swiftly crushed out of the body, so soon made pulp under those huge round feet.

Suddenly the pad-elephant wheeled about with big clumsy movements, and was off at a good round lumbering trot in the opposite direction. He had seen quite enough of this savage brother of the jungle, and had no wish for further punishment. But the "rogue" had no intention of letting him go so easily. Leaving the driver, the wild elephant dashed after the tame one at full speed.

And now began a most extraordinary race. The pad-elephant darted straight into the jungle and took the country as it came, straight before him, thinking of nothing but escape. He dashed through groves of bamboos and saplings, cutting his way clean through; he raced grunting and puffing up hill-side and down ravines; he dodged through the big trees with an agility and swiftness most wonderful in so heavy and clumsy a beast, and all the time his enemy hung upon his rear, sometimes near enough to gore his flank, sometimes out-distanced for a little as the tame beast, frenzied with fear and pain, put out an extraordinary burst of speed. And in the howdah, fast bound still to the tough wicker-work, was Jack, the only spectator of this marvellous chase through the jungle, and one with an immense stake in it.

When the "rogue" came up, Jack's heart beat thick with anxiety. If the creature that bore him was once more knocked down, then he knew that it would be all over with him. He would certainly be crushed like a fly in the terrific struggle which would follow. When the pad-elephant got away, Jack breathed a little more freely, until he heard his enemy's ponderous steps once again thundering up.

Mile after mile, through jungle or over open plain, this marvellous chase went on, and still the pad-elephant raced snorting for his life, still the furious "rogue" pounded at his heels in hot pursuit.

Jack was nearly shaken to pieces. He braced his feet against the side of the howdah, and propped himself firmly against a corner of the huge basket in which he rode. More than once the curling trunk of the pursuer was raised above his head, but, as is well known, the wild elephant hesitated to attack a rider on the tame one's back. For three full hours the furious monarch of the jungle drove the pad-elephant before him, a ride Jack never forgot to the end of his days. Then they came out on a wide grassy plain by a river, where a large herd of wild elephants was standing knee-deep in the stream, solemnly spouting water over their backs.

On rushed the pad-elephant, now panting and almost ready to fall from exhaustion, towards his fellows. But the "rogue," a hater of his kind, pulled up, trumpeted a few shrill notes of defiance, turned, and trotted back into the jungle.

The pad-elephant now stood still, trembling from head to foot with his tremendous exertions. The herd of wild elephants, more than twenty in number, left the river and came towards the beast which bore the howdah and Jack. They marched up in slow and stately fashion, without any sign of anger, but apparently full of curiosity as to this newcomer and his strange equipment.

At the next moment Jack found himself in a most extraordinary position, his elephant being surrounded by the wild herd, whose trunks ran here and there over their tame brother like so many hands being stretched out to examine him. One big bull put his trunk into the howdah and ran it over Jack, who remained perfectly still, knowing that an incautious movement might arouse the animal's anger. But these creatures seemed as mild and gentle as the "rogue" had been ferocious. Before long their curiosity was satisfied, and they strolled away to crop the young bamboo shoots.

At last Jack breathed a little more freely. His wild ride had been a terrible business for him. A hundred and a hundred times had his heart come into his mouth when the great beast that bore him had plunged through groves where it seemed that over-hanging boughs must sweep howdah and rider from the elephant's back. But he had come through all these dangers safely, and now the "rogue" had gone back to the jungle and the pad-elephant was at peace.

Presently Jack underwent an odd experience. His elephant walked down to the river and took a long drink. Jack envied the lucky brute; he, too, was parched with thirst. But in another moment he had water enough and to spare, for the elephant, filling his trunk with water, began to cool himself by spouting it over his body, and in a very short time Jack was drenched to the skin.

"It's refreshing, at any rate," thought Jack, as he shut his eyes against a fresh deluge of yellow water. "I wish to goodness I could only work myself free. I've got clear away from Saya Chone and the Strangler, and that's something to the good."

He began again to work himself about in his bonds, but he was soon obliged to desist. He was already stiff, and he soon became very sore as he struggled with his fastenings, which seemed to be eating into his very flesh.

"It's no go," he said half-aloud. "I cannot shake myself loose," and he fell back into his corner.

His elephant now came out of the river, and looked around eagerly for food. The herd of wild ones was already deep in a large bamboo thicket, and the tame one went at once after them and began to crop and munch the bamboo shoots. The wild elephants, feeding as they went, plunged farther and farther into a region of wild jungle, far from any habitations of men, and the tame one steadily followed them, bearing on his back the young Englishman, a prisoner, and forced to accompany the elephant wherever he might go.

"I've heard," thought Jack, "that these tame ones will often break away and join wild herds. I'm in a pretty desperate fix if I've got to remain lashed in this howdah while this brute rambles far and wide with this troop of companions he has hit upon."

He looked around on every side, but saw nothing that could give him the slightest cause for hope. With every step he was being carried deeper and deeper into the recesses of the jungle where no hunter dare venture, where the elephant, the tiger, and the leopard rule as undisputed masters. His plight was terrible. Who would free him, who could free him of the bonds which held him in subjection to so cruel a fate?

CHAPTER XXIII.

At the next moment his outcries were drowned in the wild trumpeting of the elephants. The human notes had disturbed them, and they trumpeted shrilly and moved uneasily away from the neighbourhood of the pad-elephant. Then the wild herd set off at a trot, went a mile or more up the ravine, and came to a halt near another feeding-place, a clump of young bamboos. The tame elephant with its burden had followed steadily, and now Jack shouted no more. He feared lest his cries should disturb the herd so much that the wild creatures should take flight, and run a great distance. If they did so, the pad-elephant would be sure to follow them, and thus very possibly carry Jack completely out of reach of the human beings, whoever they were, that he had heard at work among the trees high up on the bank of the ravine.

So now Jack was silent, but he looked about eagerly on every hand for some sign of human life. If the people had heard his cries, surely they would come to see who called for help in such a place. His elephant was now quietly feeding with the rest, and the last rays of the sun were shining through a gap in the hills straight into the hollow where the elephants were gathered.

Looking eagerly back on the track the herd had followed, Jack saw something moving in the wild plum-bushes about three hundred yards away. He looked closer and saw that it was a man, a native. His heart leaped for joy. Whether friends or enemies, perhaps he was about to be loosed from his dreadful position. Now he saw a second man, and the two dark figures, both naked save for a waist-cloth, crept slowly towards him under cover of the bushes.

They were a couple of Panthay wood-cutters, felling teak trees on the edge of the ravine. At present the ravine was dry, but in the rainy season an ample flood of water roared along the hollow, a flood which would carry the teak logs down to the big river below. They had heard Jack's cries, and, wondering at the strange sound, had followed up in rear of the flying elephants.

Their surprise was immense when they saw a white sahib in the howdah on the elephant's back. But in this part of the country, where white men very rarely came, a white face was regarded with the deepest reverence, and the simple, harmless Panthays at once set about the task of relieving the sahib who seemed unable to rise in his carriage. One of them disappeared at once into the jungle, one remained in the bushes.

Jack saw that they were engaged upon some plan, and hoping that it meant his deliverance, he remained silent, and watched eagerly for what was about to happen.

Within ten minutes he saw one of the woodmen swarming up a tree some distance ahead, a tree growing beside the well-trodden path which wild beasts had made along the foot of the ravine. Then his companion showed himself among the bushes below and uttered a peculiar cry. The wild elephants stopped feeding at once. Always sensitive to the presence of man, which means danger, they gathered uneasily in a group. Then, following the lead of an immense bull, the patriarch of the herd, they lumbered along the path up the ravine and away from the wood-cutter who had shown himself.

Jack saw, to his immense relief and delight, that his elephant would pass directly below the branch where the second Panthay was now perched. As the pad-elephant jogged up, closing the file of the retreating herd, the native, swinging himself from the bough, dropped with the greatest ease and certainty into the howdah.

For a moment the Panthay, a short, strong, powerful man, looked upon Jack and his bonds with great surprise. Then he thrust forward the head of his axe, which he had carried with him all the time, and laid the keen edge against the cords which bound Jack to the howdah. In a trice Jack was free. He flung his arms up thankfully, but dropped them again with a groan. They were so stiff that all movement was painful.

He thanked the Panthay again and again, and patted his bare, smooth shoulder, and the native grinned and bowed before him. Then the wood-cutter pointed to the ground, and Jack nodded. He saw that the man wished him to drop from the howdah and leave the elephant. Jack was perfectly willing. It was plain that the pad-elephant meant to stick to his new friends and follow them wherever they roved.

The Panthay slipped down the right flank of the elephant and dropped to his feet like a cat. Jack was wretchedly stiff, but he also climbed over the side of the carriage which had been his prison, and let himself slide over the elephant's tail.

"I shall stand the least chance of being trodden on that way," thought Jack. He dropped to the ground all right, for the pad-elephant took not the least notice of their movements. But as for keeping his feet, that was impossible. He rolled to the earth, for his ankles were even more numbed than his wrists.

At this instant the second Panthay ran up. The natives seemed to understand at once what was wrong, for both began to rub Jack's ankles and wrists briskly. Jack had to set his teeth to keep back a cry of pain. After the long numbing confinement, it was pure agony when the blood began to move freely once more, but he grinned and bore it, and soon began to feel better for the treatment.

When he could stand up and walk a little, the Panthays beckoned to him to accompany them, and they went down the ravine, following the track used by the wild inhabitants of the place. The dusk was falling over the jungle when they reached the camp of the Panthays, a deep cave in the side of the ravine, where a few simple cooking-pots and a small store of rice furnished all the woodmen needed.

By signs Jack was invited to sit down on a big heap of dried grass at the side of the cave, and one of the men swiftly built a fire and put on a pot of rice to cook. Soon the simple meal was ready. The cooking-pot was swung from the fire, and the rice was flavoured with salt and other condiments; each of the latter articles was contained in a small neat cylinder of bamboo, and packed away again when done with in the basket which was the only baggage of the teak-cutters.

Jack was as hungry as a wolf, and he ate heartily of the food which his new friends offered to him. They were extremely respectful, called him phaya, my lord, the only word of their speech which he could make out, and did not touch a single grain of rice until he had finished.

While they ate, Jack rested on the soft, dried grass, and went through his pockets to see where he stood. Somewhat to his surprise, Jack found that his captors had relieved him of nothing save his weapons. His money-belt round his waist, the contents of his pockets, his watch, everything had been left untouched.

"No," thought Jack, "I don't know what their game was, but it was a lot bigger thing than just collaring what I had about me. However, it's lucky my money's left. It's bound to be useful even in the jungle. If I can only get these fellows to lead me to a village, I can find a guide to put me on the road towards joining Buck and Jim again."

The thought of Buck and Jim turned Jack's thoughts towards them, and their surprise and consternation when they found that he was missing.

"What will they do, I wonder," thought Jack. "They'll never in the world be able to discover what's become of me. I must try and hit a line back towards them as soon as possible."

His eyes now turned on the Panthays, busily devouring the last of their rice.

"How can I talk to these chaps?" thought Jack. "I'll give them a tip. They've done me a first-rate good turn. Perhaps they'll be willing to do more if they see there's something to be got by it."

He drew a handful of rupees from his belt, and gave them five each. The woodmen stared in astonishment at so much wealth, fingering the big silver coins with childlike wonder and delight. Then they bent before Jack, and made him at least a score of deep obeisances, and poured forth floods of thanks. Jack did not understand their words, but their movements told all they wished to convey.

Each tucked his new-gained riches in his waist-cloth, and then they busied themselves in making Jack comfortable for the night. He was soon satisfied. He was far too tired to be very critical of his sleeping quarters. As a matter of fact, they were excellent. The cave was dry and warm, and the Panthays made up for him a big heap of soft dried grass.

The thought of sleep made Jack's eyes drop to of themselves. In a couple of minutes after he stretched himself on the couch of grass, he was deep in slumber.

CHAPTER XXIV.

At this moment the native by the fire uttered a cry which was answered from without. The second Panthay ran up at that moment, panting as if he had travelled fast and far. He bore upon his shoulders a basket from which he took a couple of chickens, half a dozen plantains, and a fresh supply of rice.

"Then there's a village somewhere in the neighbourhood," thought Jack. "But it may be ten or a dozen miles off. This fellow looks as if he had had a long run for the stuff. I suppose it is in my honour."

The two men prepared one of the chickens in a trice. They stripped off the feathers, cut up the fowl, and broiled the pieces over the fire on little skewers of hard wood. In a short time an excellent breakfast of broiled chicken, rice, and plantain was set before him, and Jack devoured it with the utmost relish. Then he set himself to work by means of signs to make them understand that he wished them to lead him to the village from which the Panthay had fetched the supplies.

In the end they understood him, and put their axes in a corner of the cave. By motions of their heads and hands they gave him to understand that they would lay by work for the day, and become his guides. Jack patted them on the back, and gave them another couple of rupees apiece to strengthen them in this excellent resolution.

When he had finished his meal, Jack sat down again on the heap of grass to await the pleasure of his companions. The second man had not eaten, but he soon despatched his portion of rice, and then they were ready for the road.

They left the cave, and the two Panthays led the way down the ravine, retracing the line the elephants had taken in coming into this part of the country.

"That's good," thought Jack. "We're striking on the road back at once. I wish I knew the name of the village where the festival was held, but I'm pretty certain to find someone in the place these chaps come from who can tell me. People were marching to the feast from a much greater distance away than this can be."

Their progress was slow, for the day was one of scorching heat. The naked Panthays slipped through the jungle as easily as the monkeys skipped through the trees, but Jack could not move at any speed. As the sun approached high noon a halt was called in shade of a thicket on a little ridge, where the air was fresher than in the dark, steaming hollows. Here they stayed for three hours, and Jack, after he had eaten the meal the Panthays prepared, dozed in the shade.

When he saw his guides gathering their baggage and packing it into the big basket which one carried slung over his shoulders, Jack sprang to his feet, stretched himself, and strolled forward half a dozen yards. They had halted beside a narrow path which crossed the ridge, and he wished to see toward what kind of country below the path led.

The bushes thinned, and he saw that a vast plain was opening out before him. But he did not leave the cover of the edge of the thicket. Something moving below caught his eye, and he parted the tall shoots of a bush before him, and peeped through the huge trails of pink and crimson convolvuli which festooned the branches of the low trees. Straight before him the path ran down a steep slope and then wound over a broad plain, showing itself here and there in the gaps between patches of bamboo and acacias and palms. It was among a clump of palms at some distance that Jack had caught sight of a moving object, and he now looked eagerly to see it come into view again.

It was not that he feared any particular evil at the moment, but in his present desperate circumstances, utterly stranded in these wilds among savage hill-tribes, he knew not at any moment when a savage enemy might appear. He knew well that he had been lucky in falling in with these quiet wood-cutters, and he hoped that such luck would stay with him for a little till he could rejoin his friends.

The thought had scarcely crossed his mind when he saw that it was vain, and that at this very moment he stood in the utmost danger from his worst and deadliest foes. The moving objects he had seen came in sight once more, a couple of naked fellows in turban and waist-cloth. Jack knew them for Panthays, like the men who were now behind him making ready for the march. Then, at the next second, he saw two brilliant spots of colour, and knew that the Panthays were not alone. A little cavalcade of six riders, mounted on ponies, followed the two naked men on foot. The whole of the tiny procession passed over a little clearing, and was lost again in a clump of bamboos.

Jack's heart beat fast and he drew a deep breath. Who were these men the Panthays were leading towards him? He remembered two of his enemies yesterday, and the two leading riders brought them to mind again. Saya Chone had worn a head-dress of brilliant flaming scarlet, the Strangler a turban of bright yellow.