A NIGHT BY A JUNGLE POOL 165 



fervour of the day is past. Abbas Khan and I mount to 

 our hiding-place, and the Korkus, having deposited their 

 burdens, and bearing their little gourd water-bottles, dis- 

 appear uphill, where we long hear their feet crackling the 

 great dry teak leaves, in the warm still air. 



The rug is spread, haversack and water chagal put ready 

 to hand, rifles and binoculars disposed handily, a few extra 

 cartridges laid in that little niche in the black rock and 

 we are ready. What a charm is in this delicious quiet, 

 this heavy-scented air, and the curious cries of the jungle 

 breaking the profound silence ! The little barbet has 

 changed his day "coppersmith" note for the no less mono- 

 tonous and everlasting nocturnal one of " Ouic kur-kur!" 

 and, as the shadows deepen, a large fluffy mass sails noise- 

 lessly overhead, and settles on the gaunt arm of a dead 

 tree, answering a distant call by a deep " Whoo /" 



I was lost in a reverie, watching the orange disc of the 

 full moon lift over a shoulder of the hills, when the extreme 

 right-hand corner of my eye caught a grey shadow hesita- 

 tingly approaching among some rocks in the dry bed of 

 the stream, and the glasses revealed a hyaena nosing about 

 near the place where we had come down off the hill. He 

 then stood, cocking his strange pointed ears in our direc- 

 tion for some time, but finally limped up right under our 

 rock a fine big fellow, with a good coat. By leaning over 

 we might have almost touched him with a stick. After 

 drinking he went off downstream. 



Later, a little barking deer came rustling in the teak 

 leaves on the far side of the nal, and down to the edge of 

 the water ; and another, further off, moving here and there, 

 kept up his funny little yap of " Aow ! . . . Aow/" 

 Higher rose the moon in a perfectly cloudless sky, and the 

 gentle breaths of air died away until every stick and blade 

 of grass stood out sharp and clear in the brilliant light 

 Small bats wheeled and circled with soft whirring wings 

 over the dark pool, ever and anon kissing the glassy surface 



