on the ears of his horse, which snorted and seemed very
unwilling to move. When he reached the verandah and jumped down, we
saw the reason of his disappearance. Across the saddle was tied a huge
tiger, whose tail dragged in the dust. There were traces of dark blood
in his half opened mouth. He was taken from the horse and laid down by
the doorstep.

Was it our visitor of the night before? I looked at Gulab-Sing. He
lay on a rug in a corner, resting his head on his hand and reading. He
knitted his brows slightly, but did not say a word. The Brahman who
had just brought the tiger was very silent too, watching over certain
preparations, as if making ready for some solemnity. We soon learned
that, in the eyes of a superstitious people, what was about to happen
was a solemnity indeed.

A bit of hair cut from the skin of a tiger that has been killed, neither
by bullet, nor by knife, but by a "word," is considered the best of all
talismans against his tribe.

"This is a very rare opportunity," explained the Mahratti. "It is very
seldom that one meets with a man who possesses the word. Yogis and
Sadhus do not generally kill wild animals, thinking it sinful to destroy
any living creature, be it even a cobra or a tiger, so they simply keep
out of the way of noxious animals. There exists only one brotherhood in
India whose members possess all secrets, and from whom nothing in nature
is concealed. Here is the body of the tiger to testify that the animal
was not killed with a weapon of any kind, but simply by the word of
Gulab-Lal-Sing. I found it, very easily, in the bushes exactly under our
vihara, at the foot of the rock over which the tiger had rolled, already
dead. Tigers never make false steps. Gulab-Lal-Sing, you are a Raj-Yogi,
and I salute you!" added the proud Brahman, kneeling before the Takur.

"Do not use vain words, Krishna Rao!" interrupted Gulab-Sing. "Get up;
do not play the part of a Shudra."

"I obey you, Sahib, but, forgive me, I trust my own judgment. No
Raj-Yogi ever yet acknowledged his connection with the brotherhood,
since the time Mount Abu came into existence."

And he began distributing bits of hair taken from the dead animal. No
one spoke, I gazed curiously at the group of my fellow-travelers. The
colonel, President of our Society, sat with downcast eyes, very pale.
His secretary, Mr. Y----, lay on his back, smoking a cigar and looking
straight above him, with no expression in his eyes. He silentl