ascertained the circumstances under which the tragic event had happened, and from him we have heard that the poor weaver was returning home that same morning, when on reaching a palmyra-tree, where two roads branched off in different directions, he feared that by taking the longer one by accident he would be acting contrary to his mother's advice to take the shortest path, and he therefore climbed up to the top of the tree to get a view of the two roads. Having done so he laid hold of one of the branches, and swung himself down so as to fall on his feet on the other side of it, whereupon one of the Fatal Sisters attempted to cut the thread of his life as he fell. His feet touched the head of a man underneath him mounted on an elephant. The man laid hold of our hero's feet, and the elephant moved quickly away. It was a terrible sight, Budhi hanging from the top of the palmyra-tree, with the new-comer dragging him down, but the weaver, too stupid to understand the danger of the position, began interrogating his companion in distress who he was, whence he had come, and to whom the elephant belonged. The man, aware of their dangerous position, hastily exclaimed, "I have never seen such a fool as you. Both of us are on the point of death, and instead of calling on the gods, you indulge yourself in frivolous talk. Don't disturb me, I am calling on Ma Kali to save me."
But the foolish Budhi only laughed. "Ha, ha, that's no use," he said. "Your life is in my hands. Refuse to answer, and I will let go my hold. You know what that means."
The other man was naturally furious. "What a pest you are!" he exclaimed. "There is no escape from you, however. So listen. I am a blind man, and have hitherto lived on my earnings as a singer. Last evening I entertained the king of this place with my songs, and he feasted me during the night, and dismissed me this morning with the elephant you have seen. Now you are satisfied, I hope. Trouble me no more."
"Not yet, my friend," said Budhi. "I must hear the song
