THE BEARER'S FATE
"Oh, Ma-ji," he sobbed like a child, "I obey, but my heart is heavy."
Mr. Gupta had to travel through the night. After an early dinner he started, attended by many palki-bearers and the old servant. The moon rose bright and glorious and bathed the picturesque country in soft radiance. The silence of the forest was broken only by the rhythmic cries of the bearers and the pat-pat of their feet. The first stream was reached and the bearers asked for a halt. Consent granted, they went into the stream to drink of the deeper water. The old servant crouched by the palki.
"Thirstest not?" kindly asked his master.
"Babu-ji, I feel nervous. I will stay near you."
Gupta wondered what might have unstrung the man, and felt sorry for him. "Come and sit close to me," he said.
The night was cold and the old bearer, huddled in his blanket, sat on the edge of the palki door.
Suddenly the stillness of the night was broken by a rapid crash through the dry grass near the palki, and with a thrilling roar a tiger leapt at the man and dragged him away. The palki shook,
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