IN THE JUNGLE 9 



name. That there should be is natural enough, as 

 will be seen presently. I am thankful to say that it 

 has only once fallen to my lot to come in contact with 

 it, and that under the circumstance I am proceeding 

 to relate. 



The district of Kurnegalla had never been very 

 extensively opened up for coffee. I daresay now it 

 may be a first-rate tea country. The few estates at 

 its higher levels had, according to tradition, once been 

 equal to producing their twelve hundredweight to the 

 acre. These were golden times for Kurnegalla, and 

 the planters were said to have spent much of their 

 time consuming champagne in the little town so 

 named. But those days had long since fled. Two to 

 three hundredweight was more like the figure in my 

 day, and the district was, indeed — 



" Eemote, unfriended, melancholy, slow." 



Among other things, it was a fever district — a rare 

 thing among Ceylon coffee plantations. Neverthe- 

 less, it so happened that the little knot of planters 

 who looked after it were a rare, rollicking set of devil- 

 may-care fellows, with whom the subalterns of our 

 detachment were soon on the best of terms. Fifteen 

 miles is not a long ride to dinner in the colonies, even 

 thouD'h it had to be done back ao^ain in the small 

 hours to enable one to appear at morning parade 

 (6 A.M.). A few miles out one was thrown on the 

 mercies of a minor road ; fortunately, in this case, a 

 swampy track through dense jungle, and good, soft 

 going. At this time I was the fortunate possessor of 

 a thoroughbred (Australian) horse that could trot five 

 miles in twenty minutes, so the ride was a mere trifle 

 to me. 



