THE HAUNTED JUNGLE.
IN THREE CHAPTERS.
CHAP. II.—INVISIBLE.
When the púsári came to his senses, he found himself lying in the jungle. It was early morning; but there was sufficient light for him to distinguish the surrounding objects. He sat up and looked about him. At first, he could not realise where he was; but when recollection of his night’s adventure flashed across his mind, he became instantly wide awake. He looked curiously and anxiously round. There was not the least sign of any village or habitation of any sort—only dense, pathless jungle all round! For some time he sat trying to recall the incidents of the past night. It seemed to him like a wild dream. He shuddered when he thought of it, and rising hastily, he prepared to leave the uncanny spot. But he could see no path or track of any kind. At length, noting the position of the sun, he decided that Pandiyán must be in a certain direction, and at once began to make his way through the jungle towards it. It was laborious and slow work forcing his way through the dense undergrowth; but in about half an hour he struck a path which he recognised as leading from a neighbouring village to Pandiyán. He had not gone far along this path when he met a man driving a number of pack-bullocks. To his surprise, the leading bullock came straight towards him, as if it did not see him; and the path being narrow, he had to step aside into the jungle to avoid it.
‘Hallo, brother!’ he said to the man driving the bullocks, ‘where are you going, and what have you got in the packs?’
The man took no notice and made no answer, but merely shouted to his bullocks and passed on. The púsári was inclined to be angry at the man’s supposed rudeness; but thinking that perhaps he was deaf and had not seen him, he went on his way without remark.
Presently he met a man from a neighbouring village whom he knew well, coming along the path towards him. ‘Salaam, Arúmúkam!’ he said as they neared each other; ‘you are about early this morning.’
To his great astonishment, the man came striding along as if he neither saw nor heard him; and the púsári had to jump hastily aside, lest he should be thrown down. For a few moments he stared after his retreating friend, amazed at his extraordinary conduct; then he burst into a passion, and shouting after him loudly, cursed him and his manners. But the man went quietly on without replying, or even turning his head.
Very much surprised at what had happened, and in an angry, disturbed frame of mind, the púsári resumed his journey. Soon he came to the river. As he went down the steep descent to the water, he was horror-struck to see a huge wild elephant appear from behind the bushes overhanging the river, a few yards off, and come towards him. There was no way of escape. The banks of the river rose perpendicularly on either side of him, and there was no time for him to scramble back by the way he had come. On came the elephant, dripping with water from its morning bath in the river, and lazily swinging its trunk and flapping its ears. The púsári stood petrified with terror in full view of the animal, unable to move hand or foot. The elephant advanced till it stood directly over him. But instead of throwing him down and crushing him to death, as the púsári momentarily expected, it leisurely broke off a branch from a bush on the bank above him and slowly munched it. He could feel its hot breath as he crouched against the bank under its huge head. Suddenly it turned away, listened for a moment to some sound in the distance, and then walked slowly off down the river. With a feeling of intense relief, he watched it out of sight. It was evident the elephant had neither seen nor smelt him; but for what reason he could not imagine.
Picking up his stick, which he had dropped in his fright, the púsári went down to the water to wade through to the other side; and then he discovered the reason of the strange behaviour of the two men he had met, and why the elephant had not molested him. As he entered the pool, he happened to glance down, and instantly saw, to his intense horror, that his form was not reflected in it! It was some moments before he realised what had happened. He was invisible! The water he had drunk at the pisási village was a magic draught, and its effect had been to make him invisible. Long and earnestly did he gaze down into the water; but in vain; only the reflection of the blue sky and overhanging trees appeared on the bright face of the pool. At length, in an agony of alarm and distress, he waded through the water, without, however, causing the faintest ripple on its surface, and hurried off to the village, in the hope of finding that his dreadful suspicion was not true. Close to the village he met a boy, the son of a neighbour, driving some cattle to the tank pasture; the urchin passed him without a word and without looking at him. The púsári groaned aloud and passed on. Soon he reached the village, and passed through, glancing about him with terrified anxiety, in the hope that some one would recognise him. But though several of the villagers were standing about, not one of them took the smallest notice of him. He went straight to his own house. Just as he reached the gate, his daughter came out carrying a water-pot on her hip; she was going to the well for water. The púsári stood before her in an agony of fear and expectation. To his unutterable horror, she walked past him without the slightest sign of recognition!