"Tuctoo" remarked the voice again, this time rather impatiently.
I racked my brains to think of a possible meaning for this mysterious word, but all in vain, I could understand nothing.
"Tuctoo, tuctoo, tuctoo," it continued.
And then, out of the darkness came another voice, an angry English voice, loud in its righteous indignation, the voice of my host.
"Shut up you beast," he cried, and perhaps he added one or two more words suited to the occasion. I lay down and tried to pretend that I had not been frightened, and in doing so, fell asleep. I was introduced to the "Tuctoo" next day, but did not consider him a pleasant acquaintance. He is a lizard about a foot long, with a large red mouth, and a long wriggling tail; he reminded me of a baby alligator. He dwells on the inner walls of houses, and his presence in a house is supposed to bring good luck, but his tiresome habit of "tuctooing" in a most human voice at all hours of the day or night make him rather unpopular. We chased him down the wall with a long "Shan" spear and caught him in a towel, but he looked so very pugnacious that we did not detain him from his business.
Of course the most important element of life in Rangoon, in fact in all Burmah, is the Gymkhana.
Apparently, the European population in Rangoon exists solely in order to go to the Gymkhana. It attracts like a magnet. People may not intend to go there when they set out, but no matter how far afield they go, sooner or later in the evening they are bound to appear at the Gymkhana. If they did not go there in the daytime they would inevitably walk there in their sleep.
This renowned Gymkhana is situate in the Halpin Road (pronounced "Hairpin," which is confusing to the uninitiated) and is a large, open, much verandaed, wooden building. Of the lower story, sacred to the male sex, I caught only a hurried glimpse in passing, and the impression left on my mind was a confusion of long men, reclining in long chairs, with long drinks.
On my first visit to the upper regions, I fancied myself in a private lunatic asylum, for there, in a large room built for the purpose, were numbers of men and women, to all other appearances perfectly sane, waltzing round and round to the inspiriting music of the military band; dancing, in ordinary afternoon attire, not languidly, but vigorously and enthusiastically, and that in a temperature such as Shadrach, Meshech and Abednego never dreamed of.
But I soon discovered that there was method in this madness, for the heat, when dancing, was so unspeakably awful that to sit still seemed quite cool in contrast, and it was worth the sufferings of the dance to feel cool afterwards, if only in imagination.