s the tribe was gloriously
and entirely drunk. Jan Chinn bought country spirits of an awful
strength, and slew wild pig and deer beyond counting, so that if any
fell sick they might have two good reasons.

Between head--and stomach-aches they found no time to think of their
arms, but followed Jan Chinn obediently through the jungles, and with
each day's returning confidence men, women, and children stole away to
their villages as the little army passed by. They carried news that it
was good and right to be scratched with ghost-knives; that Jan Chinn
was indeed reincarnated as a god of free food and drink, and that of all
nations the Satpura Bhils stood first in his favour, if they would only
refrain from scratching. Henceforward that kindly demi-god would be
connected in their minds with great gorgings and the vaccine and lancets
of a paternal Government.

"And to-morrow I go back to my home," said Jan Chinn to his faithful
few, whom neither spirits, overeating, nor swollen glands could conquer.
It is hard for children and savages to behave reverently at all times to
the idols of their make-belief; and they had frolicked excessively with
Jan Chinn. But the reference to his home cast a gloom on the people.

"And the Sahib will not come again?" said he who had been vaccinated
first.

"That is to be seen," answered Chinn, warily.

"Nay, but come as a white man--come as a young man whom we know and
love; for, as thou alone knowest, we are a weak people. If we again saw
thy--thy horse--" They were picking up their courage.

"I have no horse. I came on foot with Bukta, yonder. What is this?"

"Thou knowest--the thing that thou hast chosen for a night-horse." The
little men squirmed in fear and awe.

"Night-horses? Bukta, what is this last tale of children?"

Bukta had been a silent leader in Chinn's presence since the night of
his desertion, and was grateful for a chance-flung question.

"They know, Sahib," he whispered. "It is the Clouded Tiger. That that
comes from the place where thou didst once sleep. It is thy horse--as it
has been these three generations."

"My horse! That was a dream of the Bhils."

"It is no dream. Do dreams leave the tracks of broad pugs on earth? Why
make two faces before thy people? They know of the night-ridings, and
they--and they--"

"Are afraid, and would have them cease."

Bukta nodded. "If thou hast no further need of him. He is thy horse."

"The thing leaves a trail, then?"