The Adventures of Kathlyn

She was lost. That magnetism which ordinarily was hers was at its

nadir. She hesitated for a second, then climbed into the empty

sarcophagus, crouching low. Strangely enough, as she did so a calm

fell upon her; all the terrors of her position dropped away from her as

mists from the mountain peaks. She had, however, got into the

hiding-place none too soon.

She heard the familiar pad-pad, the whiff-whiff of a big cat.

Immediately into the moonlight came an African lion, as out of place

here as Kathlyn herself; his tail slashed, there was a long black

streak from his mane to his tail where the hair had risen. Kathlyn

crouched even lower. The lion trotted round the sarcophagus, sniffing.

Presently he lifted his head and roared. The echoes played battledore

and shuttlecock with the sound. The lion roared again, this time at

the insulting echoes. For a few minutes the noise was deafening. A

rumble as of distant thunder, and the storm died away.

By and by she peered out cautiously. She saw the lion crossing the

open space between the temple and the jungle. She saw him pause, bend

his head, then lope away in the direction taken by Rajah.

To Kathlyn it seemed that she had no longer anything to do with the

body of Kathlyn Hare. The soul of another had stepped into this

wearied flesh of hers and now directed its physical manifestations,

while her own spirit stood gratefully and passively aloof. Nothing

could happen now; the world had grown still and calm. The spirit drew

the sleeves of the robe snugly about her arms and laid Kathlyn's head

upon them and drew her down into a profound slumber.

Half a mile to the north of the ruined temple there lay, all

unsuspected by Kathlyn, a village--a village belonging solely to the

poor, mostly ryots or tillers of the soil. The poor in Asia know but

two periods of time--for rarely do they possess such a thing as a watch

or a clock--sunset and sunrise. Perhaps the man of the family may sit

a while at dusk on his mud door-sill, with his bubbling water pipe (if

he has one), and watch the stars slowly swing across the arch. A pinch

of very bad tobacco is slowly consumed; then he enters the hunt

[Transcriber's note: hut?], flings himself upon his matting (perhaps a

cotton rug, more likely a bundle of woven water reeds) and sleeps. No

one wakes him; habit rouses him at dawn. He scrubs his teeth with a

fibrous stick. It is a part of his religious belief to keep his teeth

clean. The East Indian (Hindu or Mohammedan) has the whitest, soundest

teeth in the world if the betel-nut is but temperately used.

Beyond this village lay a ruined city, now inhabited by cobras and

slinking jackals.