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The
acolyte
gave
Cutwell
a
frantic
look
and
waved
at
the
guards
.
As
they
urged
their
gently
-
swaying
charge
forward
with
shouts
and
pointed
sticks
the
young
priest
sidled
towards
Cutwell
and
pushed
something
into
his
hand
.
He
looked
down
.
It
was
a
waterproof
hat
.
’
Is
this
necessary
?
’
’
He
’
s
very
devout
,
’
said
the
acolyte
.
’
We
may
need
a
snorkel
.
’
The
elephant
reached
the
altar
and
was
forced
,
without
too
much
difficulty
,
to
kneel
.
It
hiccupped
.
’
Well
,
where
is
it
,
then
?
’
snapped
the
High
Priest
.
’
Let
’
s
get
this
,
mm
,
farce
over
with
!
’
Murmur
went
the
acolyte
.
The
High
Priest
listened
,
nodded
gravely
,
picked
up
his
white
-
handled
sacrificial
knife
and
raised
it
double
-
handed
over
his
head
.
The
whole
hall
watched
,
holding
its
breath
.
Then
he
lowered
it
again
.
’
Where
in
front
of
me
?
’
Murmur
.
’
I
certainly
don
’
t
need
your
help
,
my
lad
!
I
’
ve
been
sacrificing
man
and
boy
–
and
,
mm
,
women
and
animals
–
for
seventy
years
,
and
when
I
can
’
t
use
the
,
mm
,
knife
you
can
put
me
to
bed
with
a
shovel
!
’
