164 JUNGLE PEACE 



groom, naked save for his breech-clout, looking 

 very foolish and unhappy, seated on a box in the 

 center of the one short street, and surrounded by 

 six or eight women, all who could reach him 

 vigorously slapping him and rubbing him with 

 oil from head to foot. Every evening, to the 

 dull monotone of a tom-tom, the shrill voices of 

 the women were carried up to Kalacoon; but 

 tonight a louder, more sonorous drum was audi- 

 ble and the moaning whine of a short, misshapen 

 Hindi violin. 



Amid a murmur of salaams we seated our- 

 selves on grocery boxes while the audience 

 ranged itself behind. In the flickering light of 

 torches I recognized my friends one by one. 

 There was Guiadeen who had brought in the first 

 ant-eater; he seated us. Then Persaid of the 

 prominent teeth, who had tried to cheat me of a 

 sixpence already paid for a mouse-opossum with 

 her young. Persaid gave us only a hasty 

 salaam, for he was a very busy and fussy master 

 of ceremonies. From behind came the constant 

 droning chant of the priest, lingeringly reading 

 from a tattered Pali volume, an oil torch drip- 

 ping close to his white turban. His voice was 

 cracked, but his intonation was careful and his 



