law which may never be broken, for the life of one who kills
a monkey to be taken by the priests of Hanuman. Up through the ages
this law had not served to destroy the monkey people, but to protect
them.

The girl said gently: "Let me go to him. Do you not see that I am
indeed of this land, with its blood in my veins?"

Ratna Ram had taken his seat once more under the kadamba tree. It was
early afternoon and the three were travelling through the jungle. The
girl Carlin was always looking ahead--one thing only upon her
mind--time and distance and words, as clearly obstructions to her, as
the occasional branches across the path. Once when Skag fixed a big
stone for her to pass dry across a shallow ford, she turned to thank
him, but her eyes did not actually fill with any image of himself. He
missed nothing--neither the standpoint of the priest, nor of the
English, nor the vantage of this girl who stood between.

It was a queer breathless day for him, altogether to his liking, but
more intense than he understood. The girl's lithe power, the
tirelessness of her stride, the quick grace, low voice and
steady-shaded eyes full of, full of--

Skag hadn't the word at hand. Cadman Sahib would know. . . . That
look of the eyes seldom went with young faces, Skag reflected; in fact,
he had only found it before in old mothers and old nurses and old
physicians. Certainly it had to do with forgetting oneself in
service. . . .

The priest began to talk or chant as he strode along. It was neither
speech nor song. It did not bring the younger two closer together,
though they saw that monkeys were following, up in their tree-lanes.
At times when Skag dropped behind, he wondered why the girl did not see
the things that delighted him--a sparkling pool, the gleam of damp
rocks, the velvet moss with restless etchings of sunbeam. Yet he knew
that it was only to-day she looked past these things; that these really
were her things; that she belonged to the jungle, not to the
house. . . . She must greatly love this stupid cousin. . . . Skag
never tired watching the firm light tread of her--like the step of one
who starts out to win a race. . . . There was jubilant music of a
waterfall--the priest reverently stopped his chanting.

Then they came to the great rock and the second priest arose, his eye
glancing past Skag and Carlin to the eye of his fellow of the order of
Hanuman.

For an instant the silence was of an intensi