BUNKER 101 



Bunker slept in my boat, and I was wakened one 

 night by sounds of splashing and sad little yelps of 

 something in distress. I jumped out of bed and 

 tried to look over the side, but could see nothing in 

 the black darkness, but guided by the sound of 

 splashing, I made out something struggling in the 

 water, almost submerged. It was Bunker, tangled 

 up in his jhul, half drowning, and trying to claw at 

 the slippery sides of the boat. I reached down over 

 the low side and managed to drag up the dripping, 

 shivering, gasping thing. 



I suppose he had occasion to go ashore, and had 

 missed his footing on the plank on his way. After 

 striking a light, I took off his jhul and rubbed him 

 down; but it was a truly grievous thing to find 

 that he had fallen in in his best jhul, which had, 

 for some nonsense of ours, his crest and monogram 

 on it, worked in gold thread by my kind and skilful 

 sister. I told him he must be more careful, but 

 when he was rubbed dry, and had his second-best 

 coat on, he did not seem to trouble much. 



Once we came across a party of monkeys that 

 greatly excited Bunker and he them. He drove 

 them up trees at first, but they grew bolder, came 

 down and went for him, until we managed to call 

 him off. Then early one morning he stole away, 

 and I suppose he had a great hunt and a scrap with 

 the monkeys all to himself. We missed him and 

 could find no trace of him anywhere for a whole 

 day and night, and then he returned covered with 

 wounds and scratches and with only a few old rags 

 of his jhul hanging round his neck. This time, 



