hand, a whole ponderous herd winding its way down through the trees, across the open belt of spongy grass, and into the silvery shallows. Beside the boles of those trees the two big tuskers shrank to the dimensions of toy animals. There were seven or eight cows, and four calves, varying from a half-grown youngster to a small, skittish baby. They played and splashed and squealed like puppies in the shallows, sending up fountains of spray, while the elders wallowed blissfully, and heaved themselves ashore to graze afterwards streaming water like granite cliffs deluged by a flowing tide. Romesh, flashing white teeth in a delighted, proprietorial grin, shut off the engine and let the boat slide slowly inshore between the drowned trees, and they watched for a long time, until the herd moved off at leisure into the forest.
After that it was elephants all the way; they saw them pacing in line, far up on a half-cleared hillside, moving methodically down towards the lake. They saw them bathing in half a dozen sheltered coves, and paused each time to draw inshore and take pictures. Several times they saw deer, and once, where the shores opened out in grassland and they emerged into the widest part of the lake, a large sambur grazing, bulky as a bison. The sun rose higher, and the clear heat of the day came on, but the fresh currents of air across the water were cool and fragrant. Silver-blue before them, under a deepening blue sky only delicately dusted with cloud, the lake expanded broad and calm, and here the light was dazzling. They could see the long barrage of the Periyar dam far in the distance. After the enclosed, steep-shored bays the elephants preferred, this was a minor sea.
‘It’s time to turn back,’ Lakshman said reluctantly, ‘If we are to get the boat back on time.’
‘What a pity! ’ Patti sighed. ‘This is glorious. How long ago was the dam built, Lakshman?’
‘Last century, it’s an old one. I think about 1890. It turns the Periyar river through a long tunnel, and makes it flow east down into the Madurai plains. It used to go west to the Malabar coast.’
‘And the wild life sanctuary, is that old, too?’
‘Quite old, it was made while this was still Travancore State territory. It’s been established so long that it has many, many herds of elephants.’
‘You like to keep boat?’ Romesh suggested hopefully. ‘Come again in afternoon? Sometimes is better in afternoon. Maybe even see tiger.’ He had brought the boat about, and they were heading gently back for the narrows.
‘Oh, could we?’ She looked hopefully at Larry. ‘Is it very expensive? Couldn’t you be our guests this time? If you don’t have to rush away?’
They looked at one another, and apart from the question of who paid, which could be left in abeyance for the time being, there was no need for much persuasion. The beauty of the place and the fascination of the animals made departure seem a deprivation; at least they could have one more trip, for the late afternoon watering.
‘All right, why not? If the boat isn’t already booked for the rest of the day? After all, it is Sunday, there are sure to be a few trippers.’
‘I take you,’ promised Romesh heartily. ‘I fix it for boat.’
‘Good for you!’ Patti was delighted. ‘Romesh, you’re a treasure. What’s the rest of your name, may we know?’
He flashed his magnificent teeth at her in a pleased grin. ‘It is Romesh Iyar, memsahib.’
‘A good Keralese name.’
‘Yes, memsahib, from Quilon.’
They were between the steep banks again now. Once or twice they caught sight of buildings close to the water, one, as Romesh told them, formerly a palace. They were encountering, too, the boats which had set off later than theirs, and had just reached this stage in the pilgrimage. The big launch, packed with the Sunday whites of husbands and the fluttering saris of wives and flower-tinted dresses of children, ploughed steadily ahead into open water, passing them