206 Leaves from an Indian Jungle. 



it drew nearer, the tinkling of bells and rumbling of wheels 

 indicated a species of travelling caravan, and shortly four 

 ringhis jolted past in dust and glare. In the first 

 there reclined a sahib, a man of parts, as the complaining 

 wooden axles plainly testified ; next came your humble 

 servant, deriving certain consolations from a cunningly- 

 disposed horse-hair mattress and a large cheroot ; ringhis 

 numbers three and four contained various packages and 

 bundles, surmounted respectively by lusty Karamat Khan 

 as much as could be seen of him through a voluminous 

 rumal and by a bilious-looking and long-suffering indivi- 

 dual named Chinnaswamy. A ' squawk ' of protest, half 

 smothered in the dust, seemed to suggest that the 

 latter had found a tolerably comfortable seat on the 

 hen-coop. 



And so we rumbled on. 



Night succeeded day, and day night ; but still the word 

 was 'forward.' Bullocks were changed; carts collapsed, 

 and were mended ; mango groves were dimly aware of 

 nightly phantoms that paused to masticate a meal by the 

 flicker of a hasty fire ; tho change of drivers made itself 

 known, even in the slumbrous hours, by the varying pecu- 

 liarities of individual ' savours.' The feathery tamarind 

 tree knew us by the empty " army ration" tin ; the broiling 

 stretch of sand and trickle of shrunken stream by the stac- 

 cato objurgations of the frenzied gdri-wdla. On the third 

 day dawn found us in the midst of a mighty forest, and 

 hard by a forest post and hut. A short while previously a 

 bull bison had found an unusual kind of grave in a well a 

 few hundred yards away. "What was the water like ?" we 

 asked. tl Well," replied the custodian, " perhaps the sahi&s 

 might not like it, but it's very sweet ! " Some ten miles 

 more of the densest jungle and bamboo thickets found us 



