This part of my friend's diary ends abruptly. During the next few days it was impossible for him to write a line, and afterwards he only mentioned briefly the incidents of his further adventures. But Hoosanee, Gambier Singh and others, with whom I have spoken since, have given me the details so fully that I can almost see the story passing before my eyes. I take it up from the point where the diary breaks off. The writing was interrupted by Gambier Singh, who came in to tell him that everything was ready for a start. The Ghoorka captain had not much hope himself of a happy issue to the enterprise. He had lost too many men in the deadly Terai not to know its perils, and he did not for one moment imagine that a tender woman and delicate child would have been able to cross it safely. But he was too chivalrous and kind of nature to be able to quench his friend's hopes by expressing his own conviction. He expended his sympathy in taking care that nothing which he could supply should be wanting to the success of the enterprise. Tom was attended now as befitted a person of rank. He rode in front on a splendid little Arab horse--the gift of Gambier Singh--a small body of Ghoorka soldiers, armed to the teeth, followed him, and close in the rear came camels and bullock-carts, laden with camp equipage. For two days and nights they plodded on. As the jungle closed round them, and the air grew dark and pestilential, the despondency of the young rajah increased. Day after day, to the imminent peril of his life, he left the beaten tracks and made great circuits in the bush. Now and then, at such times, he came upon sights that would make his blood run cold--human bones bleaching in the sun, the bodies of men, who seemed to be sepoys, half gnawed away by wild beasts, and arms and utensils flung down in the bush. Once, emerging from a close thicket, he came upon a huge tiger, mumbling over its horrid feast. His blood was up, and, while the restless fire of the brute's fierce eyes was upon him, it fell, mortally wounded, over the corpse it had been devouring. His men, several of whom were close by, were triumphant, and the beautiful monster was carried off to camp. As for the conqueror, he turned away groaning--penetrated to the heart by a sickness for which earth holds no remedy. It was a sickness of the soul, for his bodily health did not suffer. While one after another of his attendants sickened, and had to be sent back, he held on. Even Ganesh, desperately anxious as he was to keep up, was compelled to give in at last. Hoosanee, although his superb devotion prevented him from acknowledging it, showed, by the wild look in his eyes, that he was suffering from fever. Tom saw it all; but he would not give in. 'Let us at least find Tikaram!' he said to Hoosanee. 'We know that he has gone into this place. Sooner or later we must come upon his track. He is not alone as they are.'