the days during which the jungle claims her," he said. "It seems to me that this hussy has kept you too long in ignorance of the naughtiness of her heart, the degradation and ignominy of her behaviour, and the extraordinary vileness and impropriety of her carriage."
"I would very willingly learn why she thus leaves me and what she does at such seasons," said poor Kria. "But the forests are vast, and she vanishes into their depths even as a stone sinks through still waters and is lost to sight. She is one of the wild things of the jungle, and if she has a mind to keep her secret, who shall wrest it from her?"
"It is very plainly to be seen, brother, that you are village-bred," said Kûlop Rîau with immense contempt. "The portals of the jungle are not flung wide for you. The Spectre Huntsman and the Forest Fiends do not count you among the tale of their children. If this were not so. . . . But the thing is too simple to demand explanation!"
"But you . . ." cried Kria breathlessly. "You, could you track her? Could you answer for me all these intolerable questions?"
"That could I, and with ease, were I minded to take so much trouble," said Kûlop scornfully. "But I have come hither to transact business of mine own. However, such is the love I bear you, little brother" (the two had met for the first time that day) "that I might turn me aside from mine own affairs to do you this service—at a price."
The concluding words awoke Kria's keen com-
