"Oh, no. Just a scratch."

"Yes, he is wounded, but he pretends it's nothing," said Noreen. "Do see if
it's anything serious, Mr. Payne."

"I assure you it's nothing," protested the soldier, resisting eager and
well-meant attempts to drag him into the house and tend his hurts by force.
But attention was diverted when a planter cried:

"Good Heavens! what's this? The elephant's tusk is covered with blood."

"Tusk! Why, he's blood to the eyes," exclaimed another.

For the leaping flames revealed the fact that Badshah's tusk, trunk, and
legs were covered with freshly-dried blood.

"Good Heavens! he's been wading in it."

"What's that on his tusk? Why, it's fragments of flesh. Oh, the deuce!"

There were exclamations of surprise and horror from the white men. But the
mass of coolies, who had been pressing forward to stare, drew back into the
darkness and muttered to each other.

"The god! The god! Who can withstand the god?" they whispered.

"_Arhé, bhai_! (Aye, brother!) But which is the god? The elephant or his
rider? Tell me that!" exclaimed a grey-haired coolie.