s did not care to have even the bones of such
scoundrels in their wood, and so thrust them out. That was what happened
to them, and that was what might happen to us if we went in there. We
did not go.

Though the Nats of the forest will not allow even one of their beasts to
be slain, the Nats of the rivers are not so exclusive. I do not think
fish are ever regarded in quite the same light as animals. It is true
that a fervent Buddhist will not kill even a fish, but a fisherman is
not quite such a reprobate as a hunter in popular estimation. And the
Nats think so too, for the Nat of a pool will not forbid all fishing.
You must give him his share; you must be respectful to him, and not
offend him; and then he will fill your nets with gleaming fish, and all
will go well with you. If not, of course, you will come to grief; your
nets will be torn, and your boat upset; and finally, if obstinate, you
will be drowned. A great arm will seize you, and you will be pulled
under and disappear for ever.

A Nat is much like a human being; if you treat him well he will treat
you well, and conversely. Courtesy is never wasted on men or Nats, at
least, so a Burman tells me.

The highest Nats live in the mountains. The higher the Nat the higher
the mountain; and when you get to a very high peak indeed, like
Mainthong Peak in Wuntho, you encounter very powerful Nats.

They tell a story of Mainthong Peak and the Nats there, how all of a
sudden, one day in 1885, strange noises came from the hill. High up on
his mighty side was heard the sound of great guns firing slowly and
continuously; there was the thunder of falling rocks, cries as of
someone bewailing a terrible calamity, and voices calling from the
precipices. The people living in their little hamlets about his feet
were terrified. Something they knew had happened of most dire import to
them, some catastrophe which they were powerless to prevent, which they
could not even guess. But when a few weeks later there came even into
those remote villages the news of the fall of Mandalay, of the surrender
of the king, of the 'great treachery,' they knew that this was what the
Nats had been sorrowing over. All the Nats everywhere seem to have been
distressed at our arrival, to hate our presence, and to earnestly desire
our absence. They are the spirits of the country and of the people, and
they cannot abide a foreign domination.

But the greatest place for Nats is the Popa Mountain, which