During the descent from the mountains into the Terai, Dermot wondered what would happen with Badshah when they reached the forest.  Would the elephant persist in remaining with the herd or would it return with him to the peelkhana?

Night had fallen before they had got clear of the foothills, so that when they arrived in the jungle once more they halted to rest not far from the mountains.  When Dermot awoke next morning he found that he and Badshah were alone, all the others having disappeared, and the animal was standing patiently awaiting orders.  He seemed to recognise that his brief hour of authority had passed, and had become once more his usual docile and well-disciplined self.  At the word of command he sank to his knees to allow his master to mount; and then, at the touch of his rider’s foot, turned his head towards home and started off obediently.

As they approached the peelkhana a cry was raised, and the elephant attendants rushed from their huts to stare in awe-struck silence at animal and man.  Ramnath approached with marked reverence, salaaming deeply at every step.

When Dermot dismounted it was hard for him to bid farewell to Badshah.  He felt, too, that he could no longer make the elephant submit to the ignominy of fetters.  So he bade Ramnath not shackle nor bind him again.  Then he patted the huge beast affectionately and pointed to the empty stall in the peelkhana; and Badshah, seeming to understand and appreciate his being left unfettered, touched his white friend caressingly with his trunk and walked obediently to his brick standing in the stable.  The watching mahouts and coolies nodded and whispered to each other at this, but Ramnath appeared to regard the relations between his elephant and the sahib as perfectly natural.

Dermot shouldered his rifle and started off on the long and weary climb to Ranga Duar.  When he reached the parade ground he found the men of the detachment falling out after their morning drill.  His subaltern, Parker, who was talking to the Indian officers of the Double Company, saw him and came to meet him.

“Hullo, Major; I’m glad to see you back again,” he said, saluting.  “I hardly expected to, after the extraordinary stories I’ve heard from the mahouts.”

“Really?  What were they?” asked his senior officer, leading the way to his bungalow.

“Well, the simplest was that Badshah had gone mad and bolted with you into the jungle,” replied the subaltern.  “Another tale was that he knelt down and worshipped you, and then asked you to go off with him on some mysterious mission.”

Dermot had resolved to say as little as possible about his experiences.  Europeans would not credit his story, and he had no desire to be regarded as a phenomenal liar.  Natives would believe it, for nothing is too marvellous for them; but he had no wish that any one should know of the existence of the Death Place, lest ivory-hunters should seek to penetrate to it.