68 RIFLE AND ROMANCE 



open, under the moon ; it passes over soft sand, up the 

 misty river-bed, and leaves the shallow pool behind ; 

 there is more brushwood ; more shingle ; then rocks, warm 

 and dark, and another black belt of trees ahead ; more 

 damp croakings of frogs, the distant plunge of a fish in 

 deep water, and the whistling scream of an otter from the 

 dim sandbank beyond. Another pool, shiveringly reflect- 

 ing the starlit sky ; then, suddenly, the old forest road. 



A turn to the right away from the river, a leisurely 

 padding up the slight incline, and the old tiger is on his 

 nightly beat. Ahead of him stretches the well-known 

 track, bordered by tall grass and the limbs of gaunt trees 

 twisting spectral against a white moon. 



Slowly he paces on. Some way ahead a lean grey 

 form canters wheeling in the dust ; then, slinking side- 

 wise, halts with back-turned burning eyes. Then a ghastly 

 long-drawn ululation pierces the quivering night 



" Phnee-e-a-a-o-ooh ! " 



It is the kold balti the solitary jackal, legended to act 

 as scout to aged tigers a ghoulish creature, mangy and 

 glabrous, round which folk-lore weaves a multiplicity of 

 horrid tales and superstitions. 



Old Lungra moves steadily along. There is a wisp 

 of low dust, and that flitting shape has vanished into the 

 surrounding thicket. Far away can be heard a stirring in 

 the carpeting leaves. The old tiger has halted a moment, 

 but is again prowling softly on. He turns a corner and 

 emerges into the white lustre of moonlight that floods 

 the deserted road. 



In the distance rises an old tree. Silvered on one side, 

 it flings a deep shadow to the other. One great leafy 

 limb hangs drooping over the track. 



A sudden crackle in the silence underfoot, a brittle 

 snapping of large dry leaves ! And what is this ? and 

 why ? A band of teak leaves spread across the moonlit 

 roadway ! 



