at that station, and had a great many natives, elephants,
bullock-carts, and soldiers under his command.

On the morning after my arrival, after a cup of early tea (often taken
before daylight in India), I sat smoking with my friend in the veranda
of his bungalow, looking out upon the windings of the sacred river.
And, directly, I asked the major about his children (a boy and a girl),
whom I had not yet seen, and begged to know when I should see them.

"Soupramany has taken them out fishing," said their father.

"Why, isn't Soupramany your great war-elephant?" I cried.

"Exactly so. You cannot have forgotten Soupramany!"

"Of course not. I was here, you know, when he had that fight with the
elephant who went mad while loading a transport with bags of rice down
yonder. I saw the mad elephant when he suddenly began to fling the rice
into the river. His 'mahout' tried to stop him, and he killed the
mahout. The native sailors ran away to hide themselves, and the mad
elephant, trumpeting, charged into this inclosure. Old Soupramany was
here, and so were Jim and Bessy. When he saw the mad animal, he threw
himself between him and the children. The little ones and their nurses
had just time to get into the house when the fight commenced."

"Yes," said the major. "Old Soup was a hundred years old. He had been
trained to war, and to fight with the rhinoceros, but he was too old to
hunt then."

"And yet," said I, becoming animated by the recollections of that day,