PANTHER-FISHING IN MUNG-BUNG 355 



about five yards distant, stood a wretched goat. Long 

 ago had it ceased to tug at its bonds and cry out, as, alas ! 

 desired by me, its appreciation of a mysterious fear. Why 

 was it left thus deserted in this silent jungle ? Where had 

 its friends gone ? What was that crackle in the leaves over 

 there ? 



As some echo of the distant village retiring to rest, the 

 tinkle of cattle bells, or a far-off human voice reached its 

 straining ears, it emitted a faint, forlorn "Baa-a-a /" Hardly 

 discernible in the waning light, its head was turned 

 apprehensively first here, then there, with sudden sharp 

 bobbings. 



A mournful, horrible silence brooded everywhere. On 

 the outer layer of earth above our heads a slight patter 

 reminded us that local thunderstorms had been hanging 

 about all afternoon and evening. A sudden flash startled 

 goat and self, and, alarmingly quickly after it, came a deep 

 reverberation rolling sonorously among the encircling 

 mountains. So then, to the already long tale of thought, 

 was to be added the uncomfortable anticipation of re- 

 ceiving a few thousand volts of the electric fluid from 

 the only too perfect contact of the surrounding damp 

 earth ! 



The storm rolled up quickly. Faster and faster fell the 

 pattering raindrops. Small particles of wet mould fell 

 between coat-collar and neck. Outside all was as black 

 as within, save when the brilliant flashes showed a swift, 

 sharp picture of dripping foliage and huddled goat. After 

 a while the roofing above us seemed to bind under the 

 action of the raindrops, and no more earth fell from the 

 ceiling. 



Seizing the opportunity afforded by the noisy elements, 

 I groped about me in my living tomb, and, finding the 

 haversack and water-bottle, indulged in a hasty meal ; 

 after which, persuaded of its absolute safety by some ex- 

 perience of panthers shot from similar graves, with a big 



