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Srikanta in the canoe: my companion, wading through the jungle in mud and water as high as his chest, unable, should the occasion arise, to turn aside a step—who knew what fate awaited him? Fifteen minutes passed in silence. As we advanced haltingly I noticed every now and then a curious sound—a sharp rustle, as if the head of a jowari or maize stalk were being violently shaken, and then a splash. This happened once quite near my hand. Timidly I drew Indra's attention to it. 'If it were not a big boar, might it be a young one?'

'That's nothing,' he said in the easiest of tones: 'those are snakes that have coiled themselves on the stalks; when they get frightened they jump down into the water.' 'This was nothing! Only snakes!' Trembling in every limb I sat huddled up in the middle of the canoe. With a sinking heart I asked, almost in a whisper, 'What kind of snakes?'

'There are all kinds,' said Indra, 'dhora, bora, cobra, krait—they come floating in the water and coil themselves round trees and stalks. Don't you see there's no land here?'

Of course I saw that. But while a paroxysm of fright made my hair stand on end, that strange young man, without a sign of alarm, went on, saying as he plodded onward, 'But they don't bite. They are themselves so panicky, you know; two or three of them just brushed my body as they fled. Some of them are very big too—they must be boras or dhorars, I think. And what if they do bite! One must die some day, my boy.' He went on in this strain in the most natural manner possible: some of his remarks reached my ears and some not. I sat speechless, beside myself with fear, still as a block