ice and cotton
in the low-lying ground yearly flooded by the river; over the reeds
that fringed the elbow of the bend, and the tangled jungle of the
grazing-grounds behind the still reeds. The parrots and crows, who had
been chattering and shouting over their evening drink, had flown inland
to roost, crossing the out-going battalions of the flying-foxes; and
cloud upon cloud of water-birds came whistling and "honking" to
the cover of the reed-beds. There were geese, barrel-headed and
black-backed, teal, widgeon, mallard, and sheldrake, with curlews, and
here and there a flamingo.

A lumbering Adjutant-crane brought up the rear, flying as though each
slow stroke would be his last.

"Respect the aged! Brahmins of the River--respect the aged!"

The Adjutant half turned his head, sheered a little in the direction of
the voice, and landed stiffly on the sand-bar below the bridge. Then you
saw what a ruffianly brute he really was. His back view was immensely
respectable, for he stood nearly six feet high, and looked rather like a
very proper bald-headed parson. In front it was different, for his Ally
Sloper-like head and neck had not a feather to them, and there was a
horrible raw-skin pouch on his neck under his chin--a hold-all for the
things his pick-axe beak might steal. His legs were long and thin and
skinny, but he moved them delicately, and looked at them with pride as
he preened down his ashy-gray tail-feathers, glanced over the smooth of
his shoulder, and stiffened into "Stand at attention."

A mangy little Jackal, who had been yapping hungrily on a low bluff,
cocked up his ears and tail, and scuttered across the shallows to join
the Adjutant.

He was the lowest of his caste--not that the best of jackals are good
for much, but this one was peculiarly low, being half a beggar, half a
criminal--a cleaner-up of village rubbish-heaps, desperately timid or
wildly bold, everlastingly hungry, and full of cunning that never did
him any good.

"Ugh!" he said, shaking himself dolefully as he landed. "May the red
mange destroy the dogs of this village! I have three bites for each flea
upon me, and all because I looked--only looked, mark you--at an old shoe
in a cow-byre. Can I eat mud?" He scratched himself under his left ear.

"I heard," said the Adjutant, in a voice like a blunt saw going through
a thick board--"I HEARD there was a new-born puppy in that same shoe."

"To hear is one thing; to know is another," said t