He would have urged Badshah on, but the elephant
did not need it. Rapidly they sped along the soft road towards the leaping
flames, which the soldier soon realised rose from the burning factory and
withering sheds. And black against the light danced hundreds of figures,
while yells and wild cries rent the air. And, well to one side, a fresh
burst of flame and sparks leapt up into the night. It was one of the
bungalows afire. Round it more figures moved fantastically. A groan came
from the man's lips. Was it Daleham's bungalow that burned?
All at once Badshah stopped of his own accord and sank down on his knees.
Mechanically his rider slipped to the ground and stood staring at the
strange scene. He hardly noticed that the elephant rose, touched him
caressingly with its trunk, swung round and sped away towards the forest.
Half-dazed and heedless of danger Dermot hurried forward. Again the flames
shot up, and by their light he saw to his relief that the Dalehams'
bungalow was still standing. Parry's house was burning furiously. Pistol in
hand he ran forward, scarcely cognizant of the crowds of shifting figures
around the blazing buildings, deaf to their triumphant yells. Groups of
natives crossed his path, shouting and leaping into the air excitedly, but
they paid no attention to him. But, as he ran, he hit up against one man
who turned and, seeing his white face, yelled and sprang away.
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