When he reached the top of the steps no amount of whacking with the _ankus_ could make him turn to the right and follow the city street.

He turned to the left, tooted a couple of wild hurrahs through his newly wetted whistle, and raced to meet the traffic as it struggled through the gate in single file! There was ruin ripe for harvest and it looked like the proper time to jump.

But suddenly--with that delightful wheeled panic at his mercy, the big brute stopped, stood still and looked at them, muttering and gurgling to himself.

Instantly the mahout began petting him, calling him endearing names and praising his wisdom and discretion.

I can't swear that the beast understood what was said to him, but he acted exactly as if he did.