194 



THE HIGHLANDS OF CENTKAL INDIA. 



And our Lingo Redivivus 

 Wandered sadly through the forest. 

 Wandered on across the mountains 

 Till the darkening of the evening, 

 Wandered on until the night fell. 



Screamed the panther in the forest, 

 Growled the bear upon the mountain, 

 And our Lingo then bethought him 

 Of their cannibal propensities. 

 Saw at hand the tree Niruda, 

 Clambered up into its branches. 

 Darkness fell upon the forest, 

 Bears their heads wagged, yelled the 



jackal 

 Kolyal the King of Jackals. 

 Sounded loud their dreadful voices 

 In that forest-shade primeval. 

 Then the Jungle-Cock Gugotee, 

 Mull the Peacock, Kurs the Wild- 

 Deer, 

 Terror-stricken screeched and shud- 

 dered 

 In that forest shade primeval. 



But the Moon arose at midnight, 

 Poured her flood of silver radiance, 

 Lighted all the forest arches, 

 Through their gloomy branches slant- 

 ing; 

 Fell on Lingo, pondering deeply 

 On his Sixteen Scores of Koitor. 

 Then thought Lingo, I will as.k her 

 For my Sixteen Scores of Koitor. 

 " Tell me, Moon ! " said Lingo, 

 " Tell, Brightener of the darkness, 

 Where my Sixteen Scores are hidden." 

 But the Moon sailed onwards, upwards, 

 And her cold and glancing moonbeams 

 Said, "Your Gonds, I-have not seen 

 them." 

 And the Stars came forth and 

 twinkled 

 Twinkling eyes above the forest. 

 Lingo said, " Stars that twinkle ! 

 Eyes that look into the darkness, 

 Tell me where my Sixteen Scores are." 

 But the cold Stars, twinkling ever, 



Said, "Your Gonds, we have not seen 



them." 

 Broke the morning, the sky reddened, 

 Faded out the star of morning, 

 Bose the Sun above the forest, 

 Brilliant Sun the Lord of Morning. 

 And our Lingo quick descended, 

 Quickly ran he to the eastward, 

 Fell before the Lord of Morning, 

 Gave the Great Sun salutation 

 " Tell, Sun ! " he said, " discover 

 Where my Sixteen Scores of Gonds 



are." 

 But the Lord of Day reply made 

 " Hear, Lingo, I a Pilgrim 

 Wander onwards through four watches 

 Serving God, I have seen nothing 

 Of your Sixteen Scores of Koitor." 



Then our Lingo wandered onwards 

 Through the arches of the forest ; 

 Wandered on until before him 

 Saw the grotto of a hermit, 

 Old and sage, the Black Kumait. 

 He the very wise and knowing, 

 He the greatest of Magicians, 

 Born in days that are forgotten, 

 In the unremembered ages. 

 Salutation gave, and asked him 

 " Tell, O Hermit ! Great Kumait ! 

 Where my Sixteen Scores of Gonds 

 are." 



Then replied the Black Magician, 

 Spake disdainfully in this wise 

 " Lingo hear, your Gonds are asses, 

 Eating cats, and mice, and bandicoots, 

 Eating pigs, and cows, and buffaloes ; 

 Filthy wretches ! wherefore ask me ? 

 If you wish it I will tell you. 

 Our Great Mahadeva caught them, 

 And has shut them up securelv 

 In a cave within the bowels 

 Of his mountain Dewalgiri, 

 With a stone of sixteen cubits, 

 And his bulldog fierce Basmasur. 

 Serve them right too, I consider, 

 Filthy, casteless, stinking wretches ! " 



