Chapter 15. The Rajah's Morning Call

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_ CHAPTER FIFTEEN. THE RAJAH'S MORNING CALL

"Singh!"

There was no answer. "Singh! Oh, what a sleepy old mongoose it is! Singhy! What's that row out in the playground?"

It was early dawn. The first faint rays of day were peering in on both sides of the drawn blind, the speaker was Glyn, and the words were uttered in consequence of a peculiar clanking noise heard out in the play-yard.

Now, the most common-sense way of finding out the meaning of the noise which had awakened the boy from a deep sleep would have been to jump out of bed, draw up the blind, and throw up the window, letting in the fresh, cool morning air, as the head was thrust out and eyes brought to bear upon the dimly seen shadowy space below. But Glyn felt very drowsy, exceedingly comfortable, and not in the slightest degree disposed to stir. Consequently he called across the little room to the other bed, and, as before said, there was no reply.

"Oh, you are a sleepy one!" muttered the boy, and reaching up his hands he turned them into a catapult, seizing the pillow by both ends, and drawing it upwards from beneath his head, when without rising he hurled it across at Singh, striking him with a pretty good whop.

"Great cowardly bully; that's what you are," muttered the boy. "Oh, I wish I was ten times as strong! Take that, and that, and that!"

The commands were accompanied by a heavy panting, and the sound of blows.

"Why, what's he doing?" said Glyn to himself, growing more wakeful, and beginning to chuckle as he grasped the situation. "Oh, what a game!" he said softly. "He's lying on his back, and got the nightmare, only it's a morning mare; and he's dreaming he's fighting with old Slegge again, and punching my pillow, thinking it's his head. I only wish it had been as soft, and then I shouldn't have had so much skin off my knuckles.-- There! There it goes again! It must be the workpeople come to open a drain or something. They must be cross at having to get up so early, or else they wouldn't be banging their tools down like that! Hi! Singhy!"

"Cowardly brute!"

"Singhy!"

"Eh? What's the matter? Time to get up? I haven't heard the bell."

"There it goes again," cried Glyn, as the jangling rattle rose to his ears once more.

"Glyn, what's that?"

"Oh, what an old stupid it is! Here have I been shouting ever so long to make you get up and see. Go and open the window and look out."

"Heigh-ho-hum!" yawned Singh. "I was dreaming that old Slegge hit me in the face again."

"Yes, I know you were."

"Why, you couldn't know I dreamt it."

"But I tell you I did know."

"How could you know, when I was dreaming and you weren't?"

"Why, you were shouting it at me, and pitching into my pillow, thinking it was old Slegge's head."

"Get out! I wasn't. I--Here, how is it I have got two pillows here? Why, you wretch, you must have thrown one at me to wake me!"

There was a sharp rustling, an expiration of breath, and the soft head-rest was hurled back again, just as the jangling noise was repeated more loudly.

"There! Hear that?" cried Glyn.

"I am not deaf, stupid."

"Then jump up and go and see what it is."

"Shan't! It's quite dark yet, and I am as tired as can be."

"Well, only get up and see what that noise is, and then you can go to sleep again."

"Shan't, I tell you. I am not your coolie. What lazy people you English are!"

There was a fresh jangling from below, exciting Glyn's curiosity almost to the highest pitch.

"Look here, Singhy, if you don't get up directly and see what that noise is, I'll come and make you."

"You do if you dare!"

Glyn threw the clothes back, sprang out of bed, and the next moment the coverings of his companion were stripped off on to the floor.

"Oh, you--" snapped Singh. "I'll pay you out for all this!"

"Come on, then."

Glyn did not wait to see whether his companion did come on, but stepped to the window, pulled up the blind, and raised up the window to look out.

"Here, Singh!" he cried, turning to look back. "Come here, quick!"

"Shan't! And if you don't bring those clothes back I'll--I'll--Oh, I say, Glyn, don't be an old stupid. Throw my things over me again and shut that window. Ugh! It is cold!"

"Will you come here and look? Here's the old elephant again."

"Gammon!" cried Singh, whose many years' association with Glyn had made him almost as English in his expressions. "Think you are going to cheat me out of my morning's snooze by such a cock-and-bull story as that?"

Oddly enough at that moment there rang out from one of the neighbouring premises the shrill clarion of a bantam-cock.

"Ha, ha!" laughed Glyn merrily. "It's a cock and elephant!"

"Don't believe you."

But as the rattling noise was continued, Singh sat up in bed.

"I say," he continued, "what's the good of talking such stuff?"

"Stuff, eh? You come and see. Here's that great elephant right in the middle of the playground."

"Tell you I don't believe you, and I shan't get up."

"Ugh! What an old heretic you are! Didn't he get away last night and go no one knows where? Well, he's here."

"I say, though, is he really?"

_Clinkitty, clank! clinkitty, clank_!

"Hear that?" cried Glyn. "Now you will believe. He's got in here somehow, and he's dragging that chain and the big iron peg all about the playground. Here, I know, Singhy," continued Glyn in a high state of excitement, "he's come after you."

"Rubbish!" shouted Singh; and, springing out of bed, he rushed to the window, where in the gradually broadening dawn, half-across the playground, looking grey and transparent in the morning mist, the huge bulk of the elephant loomed up and looked double its natural size.

"There, then," cried Glyn, "will you believe me now?"

Singh uttered an exclamation aloud in Hindustani, and in an instant there was a shrill snort and a repetition of the clinking of the great chain, as the huge beast shuffled slowly across till it stood close up to the hedge which divided the garden from the playground; and there, muttering softly as if to itself, it began to sway its head from side to side, lifting up first one pillar-like leg and foot and then the other, to plant them back again in the same spot from which they had been raised.

"Well, this is a pretty game," continued Glyn. "Here, you had better say something to him, or shall I?"

"What shall I say?" answered Singh.

"Tell him to kneel down, or lie down and go to sleep before he comes through that hedge and begins walking all over the Doctor's flower-beds."

Seeing the necessity for immediate action, Singh uttered a sharp, short order, and the elephant knelt at once.

"Ah, that's better," cried Glyn.

"What shall I do now?" asked Singh, rather excitedly.

"Do? Why, you had better dress as quickly as you can, and go down to him."

"But it's so early," said Singh. "I haven't finished my sleep."

"And you won't either; and you had better look sharp before he rams that great head of his against the door and comes upstairs to fetch you."

"Bother the elephant!" cried Singh irritably, for this early waking from a comfortable sleep had soured his temper.

"All right; bother him, then," replied Glyn, who was wonderfully wakeful now; "but it seems to me that he's going to bother us. I say, Singhy, the Doctor said he wouldn't let Slegge keep that fox-terrier dog he bought a month ago."

"Well, I know; but what's that got to do with the elephant coming here?"

"Oh, I only meant that the Doctor won't let you keep him as a pet," said Glyn with a chuckle.

"Such rubbish!" snapped out Singh in a rage, as he stood on one leg, thrust one foot through his trousers, and then raising the other he lost his balance somehow, got himself tangled up, and went down with a bang.

"Oh, bother the old trousers!" he cried angrily, as he scrambled up. "Here, I don't know what we are going to do."

"Don't you? Well, I do. It's plain enough that the great brute has been wandering about till he found his way here."

"But how did he get in?" cried Singh jumpily and with a good deal of catching of the breath, for in his haste he kept on getting into difficulties with his buttons and the holes through which they ought to have passed.

"Well, I don't know," said Glyn; "but I should say he tramped along yonder under the wall till he came to where the hedge had been mended up, and then walked through."

"Well, suppose he did," said Singh angrily. "What difference does that make? You see what a mess we are in. You are always pretending to give me good advice; now one is in regular trouble you don't say a word."

"Yes, I did," cried Glyn, who was also hastily dressing. "Not give you advice! Why, didn't I just now tell you I was quite sure the Doctor would not let you keep him for a pet?"

"Look here," snarled Singh, "you'll make me angry directly," and he glanced viciously at his water-jug.

"Can't," cried Glyn. "You're so cross now I couldn't make you any worse. But, I say, what are you going to do?"

"I don't know," replied Singh. "Take it home, I suppose. I came here to England to be educated and made into an English gentleman, not to be turned into a low-caste mahout."

"Oh, what's the good of being so waxy? Look at the fun of the thing! Here, I know; let's finish dressing, and then send old Wrench to tell Mr Ramball that we have found his elephant, or that he has found us."

"But he won't be up till it's time to ring the six o'clock bell. What time is it now?"

"I don't know. About half-past one, I should think," cried Glyn, laughing merrily.

"There you go again! You know it must be much later than that. Yet you will keep on saying things to make me wild. Are you going to help me get out of this dreadful scrape?"

"It isn't your scrape. It's only an accident. You talked to the beast in the old language, and it came after you again, just like a dog after its own master."

"Look here," said Singh, "do you know where Wrench sleeps?"

"Yes."

"Where?" cried Singh eagerly.

"In his bed."

"Oh!" roared Singh passionately; and hearing his loud voice the elephant grunted and began to rise slowly.

"There, I knew you would do it," cried Glyn, who was bubbling over with fun. "He's coming upstairs."

"Oh!" cried Singh again, with an ejaculation of dismay, as he hurried to the window, thrust out his head, and shouted something that sounded like "Gangarroo rubble dubble."

But whatever it meant, it stopped the elephant from crashing through a piece of palisading, and made it kneel again with its head over a flowerbed, and begin picking all the blossoms within its reach.

"Oh dear, just look at him!" cried Singh piteously. "And here you are laughing as if it were the best fun you have ever seen!"

"Well, so it is," cried Glyn--"a regular game!"

"Game! Why, I feel as if I could run away to guardian at the hotel, and never show my face here again."

"Here, don't be such a jolly old stupid, making _Kunchinjingas_ out of pimples. Here, I know what I'll do. Of course we couldn't get to old Wrench's place. He sleeps in a turn-up bed in his pantry, I believe. I'd soon turn him down, if I could," cried Glyn, as he poured the contents of his jug into the basin.

"But you had an idea," said Singh.

_Bubble, bubble, bubble, bubble_, came from the basin as the boy thrust in his face.

Singh uttered a sound like a snarl.

"Wait till I get my towel," gasped Glyn as he raised his face for a moment, and directly after--sounding half-smothered in huckaback, and coming in spasmodic jerks--the boy panted out, "I guess it's about four o'clock now. I'll--I'll go down and make--believe it's six, and ring the big bell. That'll make old Wrench come tumbling out in a fright."

"Ah, to be sure; now you are talking sense. Capital! Make haste."

"Well, I am making haste."

"Oh, Glyn, old chap," cried Singh piteously, "don't, pray don't, begin making fun of it all again. I feel just as if I am to blame for all the mischief that great beast has done and is going to do. He'll obey me, and as soon as I am dressed I am going down to talk to him and try and keep him quiet while you rouse up Wrench."

"Rouse up Wrench!" said Glyn laughing. "Why, it'll rouse up the whole school. Only that I know that the fellows won't be in any hurry to get up, I should be afraid that they would come scrambling out into the playground, and we should have the great monster picking the little ones up one at a time and taking them like pills."

"Oh, there you go again," cried Singh piteously.

"Oh, all right, old chap. That was a slip. But I say, I suppose I'd better not stop to take my hair out of the curl-papers."

"Glyn!"

"There, all right. Dry now. Must put a comb through my hair. I look so fierce the elephant would take me for an enemy. There we are," he continued, talking away as he busied himself. "Is the parting straight? There, come along. Well, you are a fellow! I am ready first."

They hurried down the stairs and made for the door, to find to their great dismay that it was locked, bolted, and chained, and so dark at the end of the passage that it was hard work to find the fastenings; and while Glyn was fumbling about in utter ignorance of how the chain was secured there came, faintly heard, from outside a shrill trumpeting sound.

"Oh," gasped Singh, "he has missed us, and thinks we are gone."

"Run up to the window again and order him to lie down," cried Glyn, speaking earnestly now. "I'll get the door open somehow, or a window, and go out to him and make-believe to mount, till you come down. That'll keep him quiet."

"Yes, yes," panted Singh; "only do make haste."

The boy hurried back along the passage, and in the darkness kicked against a mat and went down with a bang.

"Don't stop to pick up the pieces," cried Glyn, and there was a sound came out of the darkness as if Singh had snapped his teeth together.

Then for nearly five minutes Glyn went on fumbling over the fastenings, and succeeded at last in throwing open the door, to see a few golden fleck-like clouds softly bright high overhead, and away to his right the great animal that had roused him from his peaceful sleep.

He went straight to it without hesitation, and as he got close up, the huge beast began to mutter and grumble, and raised its trunk, while the boy felt it creep round his waist like a serpent and hold him tightly.

"What's he going to do next?" thought Glyn. "He must know I'm not Singh. Why doesn't he come? Hasn't hurt himself, has he?"

Just then Singh appeared at their bedroom window, and called to the intruder softly, with the result that the trunk was uncurled, raised in the air, and used like a trumpet, while a shuffling movement suggested that the animal was about to rise.

"Kneel!" cried Singh, and the animal crouched once more.

"Now you get on his neck, and sit there till I come down."

"It's all very well," grumbled Glyn; "but I don't much like the job while you are away."

All the same, the boy did not hesitate, but took hold of the crouching beast's ear, planted the edge of his shoe in one of the wrinkles of the trunk, and climbed into the mahout's place, his steed raising and lowering its ears and muttering and grumbling impatiently as if waiting to be told to rise.

Meanwhile Singh had disappeared from the window, and after what seemed a very long time made his appearance through the door.

"Oh, what a while you have been!" cried Glyn. "Now then, you had better come here and sit on him to hold him down while I go and ring the bell. Here, I say, though, it won't make him think breakfast's ready, will it, and send him scrambling off after buns?"

"No, no, no! Nonsense!" cried Singh.

"Oh, well, if you don't mind, I don't, because I shall be over there. But, all the same, I shouldn't like to see him kick up behind and throw you over his head."

Singh uttered an impatient ejaculation, and began to climb on to the animal's neck.

"No, no," cried Glyn. "I'm going to get off now."

"No; you must wait till I am up there behind you, and then as you get down I'll slide into your place."

"But you will have to tell him to lift up his ears, for he's nipping my legs hard, and they feel as if they were going to hold me down."

"It will be all right," said Singh impatiently, and throwing his right leg over, he came down upon the elephant's neck; while before the boys could grasp what was about to happen, the animal rose and began to turn round, slinging the massive iron peg over the palisade; and then, as he began to move off and the chain tightened, he drew with him eight or ten feet of the ornamental woodwork.

"Oh, what will the Doctor say?" cried Singh piteously.

"That he'll stop your pocket-allowance to pay for it. Here, I say, old chap, do, do something to steer him."

"But I haven't got a--"

"Here, try a pin," cried Glyn, making-believe to pull one out of the bottom corner of his waistcoat.

"But that won't go through his skin."

"No, I suppose not. He'll think you are tickling him. Here, shall I try my knife?"

"No, no, no! It will make him mad."

"But we must do something," cried Glyn, who couldn't sit still for laughing. "Can't you turn his head? We are mowing and harrowing all these flower-beds with this wood-stack he's dragging at his heels. Ah, that's better!" continued Glyn, as, finding the impediment rather unpleasant, the animal turned off at right angles and reached out with its trunk to remove the obstacles attached to its leg.

"Why, we are anchored! Oh, now he's off again. Why, where's he going?"

"I think he's going to make for the hedge where he came through first, in the cricket-field."

"But we couldn't get through there with all this garden-fence. It would catch in the hedge, and we should be dragging that too all through the town."

"Oh, I don't know," cried Singh.

"Let's scramble down and try to stop him. If you take hold of one leg I'll hang on by his tail if I can reach it.--Ah, that's better!"

For the elephant suddenly came to a standstill about a third of the way across the playground.

"Here, he's stopping for something. I wish we were near a baker's shop."

But the elephant had not stopped for nothing but only to balance itself upon three legs while it kicked out with the fourth, making a loud crashing and jangling noise, which was repeated till the length of wooden palisade was broken into splinters. But the chain and picket-peg were as firmly attached as ever, and were dragged steadily across the remaining portion of the playground right for the hedge, which now stood before the boys, displaying not only the demolished reparations, but a good-sized gap as well.

It seemed as if their steed meant to pass straight through, and he did so. The great iron peg got across a couple of tough old stumps of the hawthorn bushes and drew him up short, but only for a few moments; the huge beast putting forth its strength and dragging them out by the roots, after which it turned off to the left, to go on straight through the still sleeping town, making its way in the calmest manner for the show-field at the back of the principal hotel. Here it stopped at last close to the loosened earth from which it had originally wrenched the picket; and then, raising its trunk, blew such a blast that it produced a chaotic burst of sounds from the quadrangle of cages and dens, each creature after its kind joining in the chorus, and rousing and bringing every keeper and labourer attached to the menagerie upon the scene, the last to arrive, eager and smiling, but before anything was done, being the proprietor himself, who came up cheering and waving hat and handkerchief in the air.

"Think of that now!" he cried. "I say, young gentlemen, it all points to it, you see, and you needn't tell me; the old Rajah saw what was right. He only went to fetch you, and you've come to stay." _

Read next: Chapter 16. "Halt! Right Face!"

Read previous: Chapter 14. A Little Bit About The Past

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