newly-made grave. With a startled feeling he grasped his weapon,
supposing that the tiger must have entered the enclosure with cat-like
stealth. On second thoughts, however, he discarded the idea, for the
entrance was between him and the grave, and still seemed quite visible.
Do what he would, however, the thought of ghosts insisted on intruding
upon him! He did not believe in ghosts--oh no!--had always scouted the
idea of their existence. Why, therefore, did he feel uncomfortable? He
could not tell. It must simply be the excitement natural to such a very
new and peculiar situation. He would think of something else. He would
devote his mind to the contemplation of tigers! In a short time the
moon would rise, he knew--then he would be able to see better.

While he was in this very uncomfortable state of mind, with the jungle
wrapped in profound silence as well as gloom, there broke on the night
air a wail so indescribable that the very marrow in Nigel's bones seemed
to shrivel up. It ceased, but again broke forth louder than before,
increasing in length and strength, until his ears seemed to tingle with
the sound, and then it died away to a sigh of unutterable woe.

"I have always," muttered Nigel, "believed myself to be a man of
ordinary courage, but _now_--I shall write myself a coward, if not an
ass!"

He attempted to laugh at this pleasantry, but the laugh was hollow and
seemed to freeze in his gullet as the wail broke forth again, ten times
more hideous than at first. After a time the wail became more
continuous, and the watcher began to get used to it. Then a happy
thought flashed into his mind--this was, perhaps, some sort of mourning
for the dead! He was right. The duty of the father of the poor youth
who had been killed was, for several days after the funeral, to sit
alone in his house and chant from sunset till daybreak a death-dirge,
or, as it is called, the _tjerita bari_. It was not till next day that
this was told to him, but meanwhile the surmise afforded him
instantaneous relief.

As if nature sympathised with his feelings, the moon arose at the same
time and dispelled the thick darkness, though it was not till much later
that, sailing across a clear sky, she poured her bright beams through
the tree-tops and finally rested on the dead man's grave.

By that time Nigel had quite recovered his equanimity, and mentally
blotted out the writing of "coward" and "ass" which he had written
aga