The sun was just rising when Mr. Ghyrkins put his
head out of his tent and wanted to know "what the deuce all this
_tamaesha_ was about."
"Oh, nothing especial," I called out. "Isaacs has killed an eleven foot
man-eater in the night. That is all."
"Well I'm damned," said Mr. Ghyrkins briefly, and to the point, as he
stared from his tent at the great carcass, which lay stretched out for
all to see, the elephant having departed.
"Clear off those fellows and let me have a look at him, can't you?" he
called out, gathering the tent curtains round his neck; and there he
stood, his jolly red face and dishevelled gray hair looking as if they
had no body attached at all.
I went back to our quarters. Isaacs was putting the ears, which he had
carefully cleansed from blood, into a silver box of beautiful
workmanship, which Narain had extracted from his master's numerous
traps.
"Take that box to Miss Westonhaugh's tent," he said, giving it to the
servant, "with a greeting from me--with 'much peace.'" The man went out.
"She will send the box back," said I. "Such is the Englishwoman. She
will take a pair of tiger's ears that nearly cost you your life, and she
would rather die than accept the bit of silver in which you enclose
them, without the 'permission of her uncle.
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