The flint and steel, with which the fire, was to be kindled, was nowhere to be found. With the rest of Pandak Âris's gear, it had been tossed into the undergrowth by the rogue elephant, and the fading light refused to reveal where it had fallen. Pandak Âris searched with increasing anxiety and a feverish diligence for half an hour, but without result, and at the end of that time the darkness forced him to abandon all hope of finding it. If he could have lighted upon a seasoned piece of rattan, a really dry log, and a tough stick, he could have ignited a fire by friction; but rattan grows green in the jungle, and no suitable log or piece of stick were at the moment available.
Pandak Âris lay down upon the warm earth between the buttress roots of the big tree, and swore softly, but with fluency, under his breath. He cursed the Sâkai, the mothers that bore them, and all their male and female relatives to the fifth and sixth generation, and said many biting things of fate and destiny. Then he rolled over on his side, and fell asleep. The roots of the tree, between which he lay, had their junction with the trunk at a height of some two or three feet above the surface. of the ground. Thence they sloped downward, at a sharp angle, and meandered away through the grass and the underwood, in all manner of knotty curves and undulations. Pandak Âris, occupying the space between two of these roots, was protected by a low wall of very tough wood on either side of him, extending from his head to his hips, just beyond
