Hussein. Patrick O’Brian
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sat down and waited, with their red tongues hanging out, their ears pricked, and their thick tails brushing to and fro.
From this tree he could see his way plainly for about the spread of five large trees and a few smaller ones. After that a confused mass of greenness blocked out everything else. There were innumerable creepers joining the higher branches. Hussein saw a big grey langur running swiftly along them, and he decided to go by the same way. He found that they were easily strong enough to hold him. Grasping one of the thickest of the lianas he walked gingerly along.
In the middle, where the supporting branches were far apart, the monkey’s road swayed a good deal, and one or two dead creepers fell in long strands; but it held, and he quickly made his way through the trees, holding the thinner lianas with his hands, and walking along on the great cable-thick parasites that grew all over the biggest trees, and crushed the smaller ones to the ground. He was practically hidden among the leaves and blazing crimson flowers of the giant creepers, and he was high above the ground, so that for the space of two trees the dholes lost sight of him. His heart leapt, and he ran along the twisted stems: there was a chance that they would wait under one tree, while he could get away. But he went too fast in his eagerness, and missed his footing; he almost fell, but he snatched at a long liana that ripped away from the rest, and swung him hard against a branch. He grasped it, and was safe; but the noise had brought the dholes to the tree, and they crowded round it, howling like demons.
He rested awhile, as the fall had shaken him; his ribs were bruised, and he felt them tenderly. Nothing was broken — the leaves had checked the speed of the swing, but it was a nasty knock, and it had winded him. When his breath came back he went on, but soon he came to the last big tree. A sea of waving bamboos stretched away almost to the river. There was no large tree standing among them, and there were no creepers: he saw that he could go no farther.
He climbed as high as he could among the dark green shadows: nearly at the top of the great tree he poked his head out of the leaves. At first the sun blinded him, but when his eyes got used to the brilliant light he could see the river plainly, and by the place where they had crossed he could see Gill and Jehangir.
There were several kites circling above him; they were following the dholes for a share in their kill. Hussein unwound his turban and waved it, shouting as loud as he could. He could hear Gill whistling impatiently: the white man saw nothing, and Hussein saw him sit down on a rock; but Jehangir, who had been vaguely uneasy for some time, turned his head from side to side, with his great ears outstretched, and his trunk held straight out, sniffing the wind.
Then he shuffled quickly away towards the trees; Gill saw that something was the matter, and ran after him. The elephant paused and looked at Gill, considering whether he would be useful or not. He made up his mind quickly, and unceremoniously took Gill about the waist with his trunk, hoisting him up on to his back.
Hussein saw them coming, and climbed quickly down the tree. About half-way down he stepped right on top of a fat snake that lay coiled under a cluster of leaves; it fell, without striking him, and hit the ground squelchily. Hussein saw that his luck was in that day, and took heart of grace. As he came down lower the dholes greeted him with a deafening howl. He put on his turban again, and waited for Jehangir. He heard a crashing sound among the bamboos — Jehangir was making his own path. The dholes heard it too, and they looked this way and that: they were clearly puzzled, but they stayed under the tree.
At the edge of the clearing Jehangir paused for a moment. Gill was seated astride his neck, with a shot-gun in his hands, and the HV rifle, which he had brought for the leopard, across his knees; he had grasped the situation when he heard the dholes howling. Jehangir was thinking for a moment, trying to decide the best method of attack: the dholes stood motionless, the hair upright on their backs.
‘Call him to you and jump on to his back,’ shouted Gill, who had found that nothing he said or did had the least effect on the elephant. ‘I’ll pepper them with the shot-gun until we get clear.’
Hussein nodded and came down lower; the dholes leapt up at him, two and three at a time. He called gently to the elephant, ‘Hitherao, Jehangir.’
Jehangir came out from the bamboos with his trunk curled up: Gill blazed away into the dense, reddish-brown mass of the wild dogs, and in another moment Jehangir had passed under the branch, and Hussein had dropped on to his broad back. They were out of the clearing before the dholes had time to follow what was happening. But the wild dogs, though they were confused, were not daunted, and giving tongue they streaked away after the elephant. None of them was killed or even seriously injured, as the gun was only loaded with shot for partridge or sand-grouse.
Jehangir crashed through the thick bamboos as if they were grass; the stems struck the men on his back like whips.
The dholes wriggled through the undergrowth, yelping like young hounds in a covert. They came out into the open, and Jehangir began moving really fast. The wild dogs were strung out on either side, with a bunch just behind him. Altogether there were between fifty and seventy-five of them — a very formidable pack. They ran silently, keeping their distance, and waiting for a lead. Gill and Hussein changed places, a very difficult thing to do on the elephant’s swaying back, and Gill tried to pick off some of the dholes with his rifle; but Jehangir, going at full speed, rolled like a ship in a heavy sea, so his shooting was rather wild.
‘Shall we cross the river?’ he asked.
‘No,’ replied Hussein, ‘for they swim well; moreover, even Jehangir likes to take his time over a crossing and, being worried by these scum, he might be injured.’
As they were speaking one of the dholes running at the side came in and snapped at the elephant’s flank; he hung there for a moment, and dropped. Several others followed his lead, and soon the whole pack was close behind. Jehangir stopped suddenly, so that Gill was almost jerked off; then he turned very nimbly; the dholes fell away on either side, but he stamped on two of the slowest, destroying them utterly.
Then he went on, rumbling a little to himself in his throat. For a little while the pack kept its distance, but soon they were snapping behind him again. Gill was getting more used to the rolling now, and he wounded one of the leaders severely. In a moment the wounded dhole was torn to pieces; he had been the leader of the pack, and was very unpopular with the younger dholes. The pack swept on, leaving him for the following kites.
At this time they were passing through the bare rocks where the dholes had their lairs. Some of them ran ahead to a rocky defile where a ledge overhung the path. They leapt down as the elephant passed. Three of them got a footing on Jehangir’s hind-quarters, and they came at Gill. Hussein knocked one off, and Gill another, but the third got the Englishman’s arm between his teeth, and hung on. The heavy, thick-set brute had Gill half off before Hussein caught up his ankus (he had tucked it into the pad) and beat the dhole so hard on the head that it died at once. But even then its jaws stayed clamped, and they had to prise them open.
Gill recovered his balance as Jehangir turned again and stamped four times: at each stamp there was a short gasp as a dhole was flattened into the ground. But this time the dholes did not scatter: they leapt up all round, worrying the elephant’s legs. Jehangir plucked them off with his trunk, and hurled them against the rocks, but more came on. Some scrambled up to the ledge, and jumped down at Gill and Hussein. They were prepared, however, and knocked them off with clubbed guns. Jehangir stamped twice more, and broke away.
The chase began again, and for quite a long while the wild dogs kept a good distance off. Gill was firing rapidly, and he managed to pick off one or two now and then. They went on and on: the river was left far behind, and they were in a very desolate country with bare, reddish ground thinly covered with thorn trees. Gill’s left arm, just above the elbow, was badly torn, and it made his aim very unsteady after a while. He kept on firing, however, as he thought that the noise might keep the dholes off, even if it did not hit any of them; but soon they took very little notice of it.
Every now and then Jehangir turned, but the dholes were intent on tiring him out, so they fell back, and would not close with him.
The elephant was limping with his off fore foot now — a long thorn had lodged in it. The pace was