ly designated by
the priest; there is a general beating of drums, and slaughtering of
fowls, sheep and goats. When Captain Pole's turn came an ox was killed,
as a thoughtful attention to the peculiar tastes of his nation. The
priest appeared, covered with bangles, and holding a wand on which
tinkled numberless little bells, and wearing garlands of red and white
flowers round his neck, and a black mantle, on which were embroidered
the ugliest fiends you can imagine. Horns were blown and drums rolled
incessantly. And oh, I forgot to tell you there was also a kind of
fiddle, the secret of which is known only to the Shanar priesthood. Its
bow is ordinary enough, made of bamboo; but it is whispered that the
strings are human veins.... When Captain Pole took possession of the
priest's body, the priest leapt high in the air, and then rushed on the
ox and killed him. He drank off the hot blood, and then began his
dance. But what a fright he was when dancing! You know, I am not
superstitious.... Am I?..."

Sham Rao looked at us inquiringly, and I, for one, was glad, at this
moment, that Miss X---- was half a mile off, asleep in the howdah.

"He turned, and turned, as if possessed by all the demons of Naraka. The
enraged crowd hooted and howled when the priest begun to inflict deep
wounds all over his body with the bloody sacrificial knife. To see him,
with his hair waving in the wind and his mouth covered with foam; to see
him bathing in the blood of the sacrificed animal, mixing it with his
own, was more than I could bear. I felt as if hallucinated, I fancied I
also was spinning round...."

Sham Rao stopped abruptly, struck dumb. Kangalim stood before us!

Her appearance was so unexpected that we all felt embarrassed. Carried
away by Sham Rao's description, we had noticed neither how nor whence
she came. Had she appeared from beneath the earth we could not have been
more astonished. Narayan stared at her, opening wide his big jet-black
eyes; the Babu clicked his tongue in utter confusion. Imagine a skeleton
seven feet high, covered with brown leather, with a dead child's tiny
head stuck on its bony shoulders; the eyes set so deep and at the same
time flashing such fiendish flames all through your body that you begin
to feel your brain stop working, your thoughts become entangled and your
blood freeze in your veins.

I describe my personal impressions, and no words of mine can do them
justice. My description is too weak.