With the instinct of its kind it was
scraping a little pile of dust together with its toes, snuffing it up in
its trunk and blowing it on the bleeding cuts on its lacerated head.
"You poor beast! You mustn't do that. We'll find something better for you,"
said the Major compassionately.
He called across the parade ground to his white-clad Mussulman butler, who
was looking down at him from the bungalow.
"Bring that fruit off my table," he said in Hindustani. "Also the little
medicine chest and a bowl of water."
When the servant had brought them Dermot approached the elephant.
"_Khubbadar_--(take care)--sahib!" cried a coolie, the _mahout's_
assistant. "He is suffering and angry. He may do you harm."
But, while the rebuked _mahout_ glared malevolently and inwardly hoped that
the animal might kill him, Dermot walked calmly toward it, holding out his
hand with the fruit. The elephant, regarding him nervously and suspiciously
out of its little eyes, shifted uneasily from foot to foot, and at first
shrank from him. But, as the officer stood quietly in front of it, it
stretched out its trunk and smelled the extended hand. Then it touched the
arm and felt it up to the shoulder, on which it let the tip of the trunk
rest for a few seconds. At last it seemed satisfied that the white man was
a friend and did not intend to hurt it.
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