“Yes,” said Big Toomai, his driver, the son of Black Toomai who had taken
him to Abyssinia, and grandson of Toomai of the Elephants who had seen him
caught, “there is nothing that the Black Snake fears except me. He has seen three
generations of us feed him and groom him, and he will live to see four.”
“He is afraid of me also,” said Little Toomai, standing up to his full height of
four feet, with only one rag upon him. He was ten years old, the eldest son of
Big Toomai, and, according to custom, he would take his father’s place on Kala
Nag’s neck when he grew up, and would handle the heavy iron ankus, the
elephant goad, that had been worn smooth by his father, and his grandfather, and
his great-grandfather.