Presently, however, by a cursed spite of fate, one of these gusts—­a very little one—­came from some quarter behind us, for I felt it in my back hair, that was as damp as the rest of me.  Just then I was glancing to my right, where it seemed to me that out of the corner of my eye I had caught sight of something passing among the stones at a distance of a hundred yards or so, possibly the shadow of a cloud or another elephant.  At the time I did not ascertain which it was, since a faint rattle from Jana’s trunk reconcentrated all my faculties on him in a painfully vivid fashion.

I looked to see that all the contemplation had departed from his attitude, now as alert as that of a fox-terrier which imagines he has seen a rat.  His vast ears were cocked, his huge bulk trembled, his enormous trunk sniffed the air.

“Great Heavens!” thought I to myself, “he has winded us!” Then I took such consolation as I could from the fact that the next gust once more struck upon my forehead, for I hoped he would conclude that he had made a mistake.

Not a bit of it!  Jana as far too old a bird—­or beast—­to make any mistake.  He grunted, got himself going like a luggage train, and with great deliberation walked towards us, smelling at the ground, smelling at the air, smelling to the right, to the left, and even towards heaven above, as though he expected that thence might fall upon him vengeance for his many sins.  A dozen times as he came did I cover him with an imaginary rifle, marking the exact spots where I might have hoped to send a bullet to his vitals, in a kind of automatic fashion, for all my real brain was contemplating my own approaching end.

I wondered how it would happen.  Would he drive that great tusk through me, would he throw me into the air, or would he kneel upon my poor little body, and avenge the deaths of his kin that had fallen at my hands?  Marut was speaking in a rattling whisper: 

“His priests have told Jana to kill us; we are about to die,” he said.  “Before I die I want to say that the lady, the wife of the lord——­”

“Silence!” I hissed.  “He will hear you,” for at that instant I took not the slightest interest in any lady on the earth.  Fiercely I glared at Marut and noted even then how pitiful was his countenance.  There was no smile there now.  All its jovial roundness had vanished.  It had sunk in; it was blue and ghastly with large, protruding eyes, like to that of a man who had been three days dead.

I was right—­Jana had heard.  Low as the whisper was, through that intense silence it had penetrated to his almost preternatural senses.  Forward he came at a run for twenty paces or more with his trunk held straight out in front of him.  Then he halted again, perhaps the length of a cricket pitch away, and smelt as before.

The sight was too much for Marut.  He sprang up and ran for his life towards the lake, purposing, I suppose, to take refuge in the water.  Oh! how he ran.  After him went Jana like a railway engine—­express this time—­trumpeting as he charged.  Marut reached the lake, which was quite close, about ten yards ahead, and plunging into it with a bound, began to swim.