PANTHER-FISHING IN MUNG-BUNG 353 



and, pausing awhile to express his mute approval of the 

 shapely nether limbs of the village beauty, as she coyly 

 retired within her husband's hut, called on the headman 

 for shelter and water ; and, after some conversation, retired 

 to rest. 



The down mail was due about midnight, and, fairly 

 punctually, the distant " chink-chink " of the post-bells 

 could be heard descending the mountain-side far above 

 the sleeping village. 



If there had been anyone awake in Mungbung at that 

 time they would have heard the sudden cessation of the 

 post-bells, before a weird yell came floating down on the 

 night air" Oh-h-h, Apoo ! " 



" O-h-h, Apoo Ah-^oo/i ! Apoo hay ! " 



But Apoo, the post-carrier who was to relieve the 

 incoming man, was " not taking any." He was either too 

 sound asleep to hear, or too wily to undertake his responsi- 

 bilities even a few minutes before his time. So the crying 

 on the hillside proceeded, and the village slumbered on 

 indifferently under the now vertical moon. The man 

 with the bells ran through the names of half a dozen of 

 the Mungbung inhabitants, including that of the patel or 

 headman, winding up by expressing his doubts as to their 

 ancestry and the antecedents of their women folk. But 

 all to little purpose. At last he retraced his steps, muffling 

 his bells in a fold of dirty loin-cloth, and making a con- 

 siderable dttour, arrived at the village, an hour late, by 

 devious paths. After this angry voices rose on the still 

 air. Then, once more the "chink-chink-chink" set forth 

 from Mungbung, and faded away southwards. 'Twas 

 Apoo who now threaded the jungle, mail-bag on shoulder, 

 spear and bells in hand ; while Mhateen, his wrath splut- 

 tered out, lay snoring in the shadow of the village grog- 

 shop. Midnight meetings with the denizens of the jungle 

 were far too common to disturb the native passion for 

 slumber of such as he. 



2 A 



