CHAPTER XVIII 



THE harrowing scene we had witnessed made a great 

 impression on our minds, as was only natural, and that 

 night our conversation round the camp-fire, after dinner, 

 so far from being of the cheery, sporting nature we usually 

 indulged in at this hour, was probably one of the most 

 doleful ever heard in a shooting camp, for having discussed 

 the painful subject uppermost in our thoughts, we drifted 

 into stories of every gruesome incident each had ever 

 heard of. 



In this lugubrious competition, the District Officer 

 came off an easy winner, for a more weird or blood-curdling 

 story than the one he told us would be difficult to imagine, 

 and though almost beyond belief, was yet so strange and 

 interesting that I carefully recorded it. 



" It was New Year's Eve," he began, " about ten 

 years ago, that I and three other men, including one Major 



B , our policeman, having determined to see the Old 



Year out, one of us suggested telling stories to keep our- 

 selves awake. 



" I had just finished an exciting tale of an adventure 

 with a bison, and the other two, having already told their 

 stories, were as keen as myself to extract one from the 

 Major. 



" The individual referred to was a tall, gaunt, war- 

 worn warrior who had seen much service in the Mutiny, 

 and after that was over, had joined the new police force, 

 and was now the police-officer of the district in which I 

 and the other two officials were then stationed. 



" Being considerably the senior in age, and with more 

 experience of the country than myself or either of the 

 others, a story from him was awaited with anxious ex- 

 pectation, but he seemed strangely disinclined to tell it, 



14.3 



