had finished my lamentings!"

The Adjutant had done his very best to describe his feelings
after swallowing a seven-pound lump of Wenham Lake ice, off an
American ice-ship, in the days before Calcutta made her ice by
machinery; but as he did not know what ice was, and as the
Mugger and the Jackal knew rather less, the tale missed fire.

"Anything," said the Mugger, shutting his left eye again--
"ANYTHING is possible that comes out of a boat thrice the size
of Mugger-Ghaut. My village is not a small one."

There was a whistle overhead on the bridge, and the Delhi Mail
slid across, all the carriages gleaming with light, and the
shadows faithfully following along the river. It clanked away
into the dark again; but the Mugger and the Jackal were so well
used to it that they never turned their heads.

"Is that anything less wonderful than a boat thrice the size of
Mugger-Ghaut?" said the bird, looking up.

"I saw that built, child. Stone by stone I saw the bridge-piers
rise, and when the men fell off (they were wondrous sure-footed
for the most part--but WHEN they fell) I was ready. After the
first pier was made they never thought to look down the stream
for the body to burn. There, again, I saved much trouble.
There was nothing strange in the building of the bridge," said
the Mugger.

"But that which goes across, pulling the roofed carts! That is