Flora Annie Steel

“ Apparently he fancied Sambo, or Rudra, or Nilkunta—whichever you choose to call him—for, a day or two afterwards, the man came to me clothed in the loose garments and aggressive turban usually worn by Mohammedans. He looked less startling, but the type of face was utterly new to me.
“I am a hunter, Huzoor," he said gravely; indeed I think his face was the gravest I ever saw. “I kill to live; I live to kill. That is all. I come from the mountains, and I know the river. Wherefore not, since it is my birthplace? None know it as I; others may claim it, but it is mine, and the fish also. ”

“ If it had been the darkness of Egypt I had no choice but to follow, and half an hour afterwards I was stumbling along after Sambo. Even by daylight the hills, heat cracked, rain seared, strewn with sharp rocks, were bad walking; on a dark, hot night, with the snakes' eyes gleaming from the stones, horrible—most horrible. The straight fingers of the stiff candelabra bushes pointing up and up, the gnarled stunted trees growing into strange shapes, reminding one involuntarily of those antediluvian animals whose bones lie buried all along the Siwaliks. ”

“ Out of the yellow-brown flood a grave yellow-brown face crowned by a curious brass pot not unlike a tiara, then two yellow-brown arms, reminding me unpleasantly of snakes, curved up in the overhead stroke as the swimmer slipped down to where a rope hung from one of the huge ribs. He swarmed up it like a monkey, to sit still as a carven image on the outermost buttress of the pier. ”

“ I asked of Sambo, pointing to the peaks, as I stood settling my tackle
For the first time a slow smile showed on the man's fine delicate face. “No, Huzoor. I live everywhere. Wherever there are things to kill, and that is in most places. But not here, sahib,” he continued hastily, turning to Bannerman, who was about to launch his minnow into a likely spot. “This pool is sacred to the god yonder.”
And sure enough, close to the water's-edge, beneath the shade of a banyan tree, stood a crowned image of Maha-deo, with his eight arms, his necklace of snakes, and chaplets of skulls. ”

“ Bannerman began to grow restive, suggesting that in a boat “one man's sport was another man's spoil”; so we moved across the range of the Siwaliks to higher ground. We pitched our tents between the river and a backwater, where the boat, which despite my advice Bannerman insisted on bringing round by road, lay moored beneath a big cotton tree. ”

“ And as we surged through the yellow-brown flood we talked vaguely and airily of old gods and new, of Siva's religion of stern reality, and Krishna's pleasure-loving cult.
“You should read Prem Sâgar, sir,” said Mr. Chuckerbutty, the native assistant-engineer, aside to Bannerman, who had given his vote for the latter; “it is of much merit, containing the loves of Krishna and other cognate matter.”
“It's a mere question of temperament,” went on Bannerman, unheeding the interruption. “Some people are born to one thing, some to another. I was born to enjoy myself—Hullo! ”

“ Eminently handsome, if a trifle dark for a country where people fight shy of any admixture of blood. Extraordinarily graceful and supple, doing everything with extraordinary grace and skill. Beyond that, rich. ”

“ Not unlike one in dress, but her face, marked with the crescent of Siva on the forehead, was of a different type. A beautiful woman too, and Bannerman simply couldn't take his eyes off her.
“Who is she? Who can she be? Sambo! Rudra! Nilkunta! whichever you are—do you know who she can be?” he queried in hot excitement.
“She is somebody's house, Huzoor." The voice was cold as an icicle.
“Somebody's house! What a way to mention a woman beautiful—beautiful as—but it's the old Puritanical game. A house—a hearth mother—the British matron in Eastern disguise—Mrs. ”