14 THE IMAGE OF WAR 



" You needn't be afraid. I have no idea of shooting 

 myself. It was someone else I took that out for." 



"What is it, then? You look as if you had seen 

 a ghost." 



" That I certainly haven't. But perhaps I've 

 heard one ; " and over a whisky - and - soda and a 

 cheroot I told him the story, just as I have written 

 it here. We sat up rather late, expecting to hear 

 something more, but we did not. Nor was it repeated 

 during my (not long) further sojourn at Kandy. For 

 me it remains a mystery of the jungle. 



With another jungle there are, for me, only pleasant 

 reminiscences connected. Some two years after the 

 time I have just mentioned I was stationed at Point- 

 de-Galle. It certainly was a wretched place — hot and 

 dull. The jungle nowhere approaches such an old 

 settlement, but within a moderate ride was a fairly 

 extensive piece — Kottowe Forest. This was a 

 primaeval tropical forest, or would have been, had 

 not a good road run through it. In the forest itself 

 stood a rest-house ; for what reason it is hard to 

 imao-ine, for there was absolutely no traffic on the 

 road. It was a charming spot. Noble trees sur- 

 rounded the little bungalow, and in front of it a little 

 stream babbled over tiny falls under the orchids, 

 calladiums, and ferns. Near the house this had been 

 dammed to form the most delightful and idyllic of 

 baths. The water was as clear as crystal, and popu- 

 lated by a peculiar perch-shaped little fish, striped 

 with bands of gold and crimson. Here I would 

 generally arrive towards dusk. At daybreak I would 

 be aroused by the loud and guttural cries of the great 

 black wandara monkeys, and, after a hasty breakfast, 

 take my rifle and stroll into the forest. 



