vegetation. Cane brakes through which even elephants and bison would find
it hard to push a way, tree ferns of every kind, feathery bushes set thick
with cruel hooked thorns, mingled with the great trees, between which the
creepers rioted in wilder confusion than ever.

The heat was intense. The air grew moist and steamy, and the sweat trickled
down Dermot's face. The earth underfoot was sodden and slushy. Little
streams began to trickle, for the water from the mountains ten miles away
that sinks into the soil at the foot of the hills and flows to the south
underground, here rises to the surface and gives the whole forest its
name--Terai, that is, "wet."

Slimy pools lurked in the undergrowth. In one the ugly snout of a small
crocodile protruded from the muddy, noisome water, and the cold, unwinking
eyes stared at elephant and man as they passed. The rank abundant foliage
overhung the track and brushed or broke against Badshah's sides, as he
shouldered his way through it.

Suddenly, without warning, Badshah came out on a stretch of forest clear of
undergrowth between the great tree-trunks, and to his amazement Dermot saw
that it was filled with wild elephants. Everywhere, as far as the eye could
range between the trees, they were massed, not in tens or scores, but in
hundreds. On every side were vistas of multitudes of great heads with
gleaming white tusks and restless-moving trunks, of huge bodies supported
on ponderous legs. And with an unwonted fear clutching at his heart Dermot
realised that all their eyes were turned in his direction.

Did they see him? Were they aware that Badshah carried a man? Dermot knew
that beasts do not quickly realise a man's presence on the neck or back of
a tame elephant. He had seen in a _kheddah_, when the _mahouts_ and noosers