The woman had been lynched. She was said to have been beautiful, but unfaithful to her husband, for which latter fault she had been dragged into the forest, ill-treated, and eventually hanged, her body being left for several days until the murder was discovered. On the present occasion the body was being conveyed to Almora—some fifty miles off—for the official examination and inquiry. I had dismounted in order to hear the details of the tragedy, but as the corpse was in a state of decomposition I jumped on the saddle again and fled, my handkerchief held fast to my nose.
I was told that Kumaonis, especially in the particular part of the province I was then travelling [[25]]in, were very revengeful and much addicted to murder. I, too, found them morose and sulky, ever discontented, somewhat quick-tempered and unreasonable. They undoubtedly possess the vindictive and warlike characteristics of their former masters and present neighbours, the Nepalese, but have lost—or possibly never possessed—any of their finer qualities.
Since the British took possession of this part of Kumaon, crime has been put down to a certain extent, but much difficulty, I understand, is experienced in ever discovering offenders, who are cleverly screened from the authorities by everybody. They certainly have no love, nor even respect, for sahibs, and they display a supercilious look upon their countenances which makes them heartily detestable.
I was able to obtain additional ponies and men at Lohagart, formerly a military cantonment, and to continue my journey towards the Nepalese frontier.
We crossed the Serju River forming the southern and northern boundaries, respectively, between the Sor and Kali Kumaon Parganahs, by a forced march of twenty-one miles—quite good going with baggage and on such roads in such [[26]]weather. We had some difficulty in keeping to the trail in the dark forest at night, and we had a curious instance of how superstition will work on some people’s minds with quite disastrous effects. All over the Himahlyas one finds, in some form or other, a rooted belief in the spirits of the mountains and of the forest, some of the spirits being benign enough, others of a wicked temperament.
My sayce, who was an excellent fellow, but timid to a degree, had become separated from the rest of my party and had remained far behind in charge of a recalcitrant pony and load. In the middle of the night I heard distant cries of distress, and, suspecting the cause, I sent some men with improvised torches to his assistance. They carried in the sayce, and on depositing him on the ground, pronounced him dying. In fact, the poor fellow was doubled up, delirious with fever, and in a state of absolute nervous collapse. When I brought a light to his face he became terrified, wept, and, trembling all over, begged for mercy. He seemed to be labouring under some hallucination—some ghastly vision at all events, for when I placed my hand upon his forehead he screamed and struggled in horror. He entreated [[27]]to be freed from the horrible figures which danced around him; he shuddered, and eventually his convulsions took the form of an epileptic fit.
This was all the result of a prolonged fright. When he recovered sufficiently he told me how at night in the forest, when he was left alone, evil spirits surrounded him and pulled him by the hair, the ears, the nose, and pinched him all over.
“Show me the marks.”
“Sahib,” he said, looking at himself all over, “I can see no marks, but I still feel the pain where they touched me.”
“But how could you see the spirits if it was quite dark?”