Evening star., 1941-02-02


animal kingdom. Supposing the burrah
sahib's gun misfred? Supposing the burrah
sahib got hurt? Where then would be Oriental
hospitality?
Along one wall of the Hindus hut was
row of halters, Sundra Lals relics of former
favorites. The place for Barlow's collar was
already there and waiting The largest of
these reminders had belonged to Rama,
tigress from the Punjab. There was beast,
the biggest captive Sundra Lal had ever held.
She had been shot by most distinguished
guest, and Sundra Lal had watched the flame
spout from the hunters rifle. The hunters
face had been aglow with pride and pleasure,
and Sundra Lal felt his flesh tingle as he
thought of Rama coming to life in some sud-
den magic way; of her implacable lunge
toward the burrah sahib; of the forid triumph
draining away from the burrah sahibs face
forever.
But things don't happen that way
When the veterinarian came, he made
straight for Barlows cage. He was Bengali,
haiing from the larger world of dashing polo
ponies and caparisoned elephants. Sundra
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watched the veterinarian wrap capsule, as
large as pea-hen's egg in piece of meat.
He threw it in at Barlow and Barlow ate it
eagerly.
The tears leaked down Sundra Lals cheeks
as he watched the slow decomposition of the
alert and glossy body. Barlow Crumped for
ward on his knees; glaze filmed over the
hot ba, IL
in helpless surrender.
But the veterinarian was taking no chances
He prodded the heaving fanks for ten minutes
before he ventured into the cage Even then
he stepped cautiously before plunging
needle far in under the left .foreleg
1t seemed to Sundra Lal that the ride in
the bullock cart was the ultimate degrada-
ton that could be imposed on his favorite.
In the gray dawn he slid Barlow from the
cart in clearing in the Jungle In half an
hour Barlows head would begin to clear,
but for many more hours he would be held by
profound and unconquerable lethargy. Be-
fore that mist lifted, he would be dead.
OUNDRA LAL sped away to where the hunt
was forming on the palace lawns. He wanted
glimpse at this most honored of burrah
sahibs. With a start Sundra Lal recognized
the burrah sahib. He had seen him before
Barlow indeed was honored Here was the
hunter who had shot Rama.
The hunt was already in motion, moving
majestically toward the jungle. First the
two state elephants bearing His Highness the
Prince and the burrah sahib. Then a small
host Of attendants and admirers. Sundra Lal
fastened to the extreme rear.
Soon they could hear the beaters The beat
ers had gone ahead hours ago. Their purpose
was to make lot of noise and drive every
thing on to the approaching guns.
They came on Barlow abruptly, warned of
his presence by the sudden trumpeting of the
elephants. Barlow came out slowly, scream
ing defiance, looking as if he were about to
spring.
The burrah sahib whipped his fine rifle to
his shoulder. Courteously, the prince held
his fire. The burrah sahib shot neatly and
expertly, in order not to mar the beautiful
skin.
Sundra Lal slipped round in front of the
attendants. He threw a baleful glance at the
burrah sahib before his eyes settled ruefuly
on Barlow He looked back once, before he
ducked away into the trees, his face aflame
with an odd, curious satisfaction.
The two men climbed down from the how
dahs The burrah sahib was a fat red-faced