DOORS LOCKED. 
branch road is passed, our enemy goes straight on, 
bound for a large swamp, where no doubt he will 
have some good feeding, down a steep declivity. We 
make a rush and a run, on to the branching off 
road and off at full speed, and so was the elephant ! 
He had heard us, and we were both: running off 
from each other, in opposite directions, as hard as 
we could, with this difference, that the elephant was 
grunting with fear and alarm, and we were grunt- 
ing for want of breath, for it did, and no mistake, 
create a tax on one’s breathing, walking up that hill, 
and instead of getting the usual rest at the top, of 
fifteen minutes, a fresh demand was made upon the 
lungs in running away from an elephant. 
By the time we reached our bungalow, we were 
quite calmed down, and as the ricketty old building 
popped into view we felt thankful, that all the 
holiday excursions were done, our troubles at an end. 
But they were not. We sat down on a chair in 
the verandah to rest, knowing it would be quite 
useless to call for anything to eat and drink, for 
the answer would assuredly be ‘‘Nothing got,” and 
having a very good notion that we would not be 
long of sleeping in, fine cold climate and having also 
some idea of taking the coolies by surprise and seeing 
how morning muster has been managed, as to turn- 
ing out time, when master is supposed to be away, 
and being firmly convinced that this cannot be man- 
aged if the boy knows master has come, why we will 
circumvent the boy, turn in and salute his astonished 
ears at daybreak next morning, when all the fires 
are out, with “Boy, bring coffee !” We chuckle, and 
are quite amused at the idea, put our hand on the 
door-handle, but the door is locked in the inside, or 
else some one has the key, for there is no key in the 
door, the windows are tried, all the same, locked 
out of our own bungalow, at midnight, and so, of 
course, all our knowing designs frustrated. Now we 
have always had a most decided objection to having 
our designs frustrated, and when obstacles were opposed 
to designs the more determined we become. A very 
good speciality, provided only you are right — but 
not a safe one, should one happen to be wrong. Well, 
there could be no question about right or wrong here, 
for no one can possibly dispute, that a man must 
of course be right in getting into his own bunga- 
low, and, if no other means will do, even in breaking 
in. We suddenly recollected that the small window 
in the back writing-room off the bed-room has no 
bolt at all, but that the r®ugh unplaned plank window, 
which swings on two leather hinges, is just fastened 
