in its full strength and power. His grandfather, absorbed in his task, did not notice how the light was fading, and he was overtaken by darkness in the midst of his search. The old man remembered how they listened and watched for him as night came on with its tropical swiftness, growing more anxious each minute that passed. Suddenly a horrible shriek fell upon their ears. It was followed by cries such as might still be heard after dark. All night they listened and watched, not daring to climb the rock, their blood curdled by the screams of the demons. It was not until the sun was well above the horizon that they ventured to look for the old treasure-seeker. They found him dead with every bone in his body broken, and his features mangled and crushed beyond recognition. It was evident, quite evident, said the ancient villager, what had happened. His grandfather had encountered the evil spirit that guarded the treasure, and it had killed him.
The cries were to be heard every night while Mrs. Sewell was there. They were uncanny and could not be accounted for. Jackals abounded, but no jackal could have shrieked in that manner. Their cry is unmistakable. Neither did the sounds come from a leopard nor from a tiger or wild cat. The peons were triumphant with their ghost and devil theory since no other solution could be suggested for the mystery.
Some months later Mrs. Sewell was travelling by rail towards the hills. She had to change at a certain station. Suddenly she was startled by the sound of a cry. 'The Gingee ghost !' she exclaimed.
Led by the uncanny wailing she went in search of the demon. Standing on the platform, half hidden by a pile of luggage and fruit-baskets, was a cage containing a couple of baby hyænas. The mystery was solved and the demons stood revealed. In later years I heard that self-same cry on the Nilgiri hills below Dodabetta. It was a
