Leaves from an Indian Jungle. 



NOON. 



Hot dry jungle crackles under a vertical sun, and the 

 dust of the forest road lies away in a long grey riband 

 behind the rythmic hoof-beats of our third change of 

 horse-flesh as a long ride draws to its destination. 



Ahead, quivering in the heat -haze, a dip in the low 

 woody hill country, indicative of a line of river, with 

 those glimpses of dark green groves along its banks. 

 Mother Tapti at last I 



The track curves down to cross a tributary stream, and 

 we walk the good mare across its shingly bed, under the 

 low branches of gnarled and hoary mango trees, up which 

 spring and whoop the grey apes that we have disturbed at 

 their midday drink. Far up-stream the fresh green of 

 jdmun covert ; down-stream great rocks, with some 

 peafowl scuttling away from a little water-hole. A likely 

 place indeed! 



We ascend the far bank slowly in deep shade ; then 

 off on a final canter. Jungle thins, and gives place to a 

 narrow clearing, its diminutive fields lying reaped and 

 bare ; the barking of village curs is heard, and a humble 

 Korku hamlet stands on its knoll, overlooking a fringe 

 of dark trees that border the river below. Our hoof-beats 

 bring out one or two of the jungle men, who, grinning in 

 a friendly way, point to a bend up-stream. There, roman- 

 tically situated in the deep shade of a spreading many- 

 trunked banyan, is the little 8o-lb. tent. A mandwa, or 

 thatched, open-sided shelter, has been erected adjoining 

 it, 'neath which on snowy napery tiffin is ready laid! 

 We sink into the inviting arms of a long cane-chair. 

 44 Yes, my excellent Abdul, you may remove my boots ; 

 but, before all, bear swiftly hither a chalice brimming over 

 with nectar such as the sahtbs do love ! 



