again the little cavalcade moved forward, and again oscar heard a sweet voice warbling from the height of the howdah. well he knew that the song was meant for his ear.

“thank heaven! io is happy,” thought he; “happy in pure memories of the past, in the innocent joys of the present, and in the unclouded hope of the glory to come. what a strange fate it was that linked this bright, joyous being’s life to mine! will io miss me in the mansions of light? amidst her thoughts of gladness will there be one of tender regret for one who loved her as no other man ever loved?”

it was not long before oscar’s attention had to be given to new difficulties on the road. the path, for it was not a highway, led through a dense forest, where thick branches interlaced above formed an unexpected barrier which no elephant carrying a howdah could possibly pass.

“oscar, what is to be done?” exclaimed io, as the huge animal which she rode came to a sudden halt.

“this is very annoying,” said oscar. “i was assured that the road the whole way to tavoy might be traversed on an elephant’s back. i will send men to the right and left to ascertain if indeed there be no practicable path through the wood.”

the search was made in vain. there was evidently no way to proceed but through the tangled forest. oscar, who had joined in the search, came back to his wife.

“it is evidently impossible to go on,” said he. “no howdah could pass under these trees.”

“then what is to be done?” repeated io. “i can hardly attempt to walk the whole way to tavoy,” she added, in as cheerful a tone as she could command; “and if i tried the tat without a lady’s saddle, i fear that i should come to grief, like thud.”

oscar reflected for a moment. “we might try what i first proposed—a litter.”

“what! make an improvised one of branches?” cried io gaily. “but where are the bearers to carry me?”

“we had better return to our new friends at mouang,” observed oscar; “they may supply us with some rude substitute for litters, and men to carry them also.”

“but if you go back to the village it makes the distance greater,” growled thud. “i am already walked off my legs; my boots have holes, and my feet are blistered.”

“get up on the elephant, thud,” said io. “maha and i will walk back to mouang; i shall really enjoy the change.”

the lofty seat in the howdah just suited the taste of thucydides thorn, who liked to look down on the rest of the world, and feel himself in the high position to which he was always aspiring. oscar did not wish the laden mules to return—they could make their way through the wood; and his servants had to prepare food and pitch the tent at the end of the next long stage.

io had a delightful walk by the side of oscar, and found the distance to the village only too short.

the karens were surprised at the travellers making so speedy a return, though the shrewder amongst them had guessed that the elephant would never get through the forest. the villagers welcomed the party very kindly. coldstream soon made the karens understand what he required. litters there were none at mouang, but rude substitutes could be made out of charpais (small bedsteads), ropes, and the bamboos which were abundant. nothing was required but dexterity and a moderate space of time. the karens cheerily lent their aid; oscar not only gave directions, but worked vigorously with his own hands; io and maha helped to tie ropes and spread rugs over the improvised litters. thud, without descending from the howdah, watched all at their work with his thumbs in his pockets. he felt himself to be a presiding genius.

though the best possible speed had been made, some hours passed before the litters were completed, and the karens who were to carry them were ready to start.

“what is to be done with the elephant?” asked thud.

“the elephant must return to moulmein,” was coldstream’s reply; “he cannot carry his howdah through land clothed with thick forest trees.”

“then i’ll return with him,” cried thud. “i’ve had enough and too much of gipsy life, going on tramp up hill and down hill, tearing one’s clothes, scratching one’s skin, spoiling one’s boots, and hurting one’s feet. i’ll go back to more civilized life.”

it cannot be said that either oscar or io regretted their brother’s wish to turn back. the former, however, exacted a promise from the lad that he would put up at the chaplain’s house till his sister’s return, and go on with work at the office. so the party separated, the elephant going one way and the litters the other, the karens willingly carrying the latter, pleased with the liberal pay which the english gentleman offered.

“good-bye, thud,” cried out io, looking up and waving her hand to her brother. “i hope that you will have filled every pocket in your bag before our return.”

thucydides grinned, displaying the unsightly gap in his row of front teeth, and secretly resolving to show his sister something worth seeing. he had a theory that he could produce black blossoms on her fine creepers by watering them with ink! thud had also an idea that lightfoot might be cured of his lameness by steady application of mustard plasters.

“let’s make the best haste that we can,” said io, as she seated herself on her litter. “the delay has made me more than ready for dinner. thud has carried off our sandwich-box and all the biscuits, and the sun is getting low.”

“we must indeed make the best speed we can,” said coldstream. “it is not desirable to go through the forest at night, for the thick foliage cannot be penetrated by the rays of the moon. had i known how long we should be delayed at mouang, i would have ordered my men to stop and pitch our tent at this side of the wood.”

“i wish that we had torches,” suggested io.

“i took the precaution of securing two, and oil to feed them, when we were at mouang,” said oscar.

the party reached the edge of the forest just as the sun’s round red globe touched the horizon.

“our people have evidently gone on,” observed oscar; “we can see the track of feet and hoofs on the path before us.”

“then we had better follow, and quickly too,” cried io, “for we can have neither food nor tent till we catch up with the mules.”

entering the sombre forest was almost like plunging into sudden night, so dense was the leafy shade. coldstream ordered the peasants to light the torches, that there might be no risk of losing the track of the party in front. io admired the picturesque effect of the red light on huge trunks, gnarled roots, and overhanging boughs, and suppressed, as far as she could, all signs of fatigue and hunger. she could not help thinking of the possibility of leopards, even tigers, haunting those dark, desolate woods. her ear was quick to detect the slightest sound which imagination might convert into a distant growl, and her glance anxiously scanned the thick undergrowth of bushes to detect the glare of the eye of any wild beast. oscar had left his gun on one of the mules; except that a few of the karens had sticks, the party were utterly unarmed and defenceless in case of attack.

io kept her fears to herself, and whenever she addressed her husband, did so in as cheerful a tone as she could command; but she was exceedingly weary. oscar walked on silently, being anxious on account of his wife, except when he broke the stillness of the woods by a shout, in hopes that the muleteers might not be far ahead, but able to hear and reply. at last the travellers came to an open space in the forest, which had been formerly cleared for the erection of an idol temple, of which a few ruins still remained. the moon, now from almost vertical height, threw her silvery light on these ruins and the dark encircling wood around. from this open space the road divided; two ways appeared before the travellers, one bearing towards the right, one towards the left. the party came to a halt.

“it is evident which path the muleteers have taken,” observed oscar, as both moonlight and torchlight showed the marks of hoofs and naked feet on the road which bore to the left.

“wrong—go wrong; way to tavoy lie that way!” cried the foremost karen, who bore one of the torches, pointing towards the right.

“are you certain of that?” asked oscar.

almost with one voice the karens replied, “mules gone wrong way—drivers know nothing—never get to tavoy.”

oscar felt extremely annoyed and perplexed. his wife, faint with fasting, might have to spend the whole night in the wood. io was keeping up bravely, but her husband knew that she suffered. he was undecided as to what course to pursue: if he took the right path, he gave up hope of overtaking the mules which carried the tent and provisions; if he took the left, he and his party might be lost in the dark depths of the forest. oscar thought of returning to mouang; but he had already gone so far that he was unwilling to retrace his steps.

“which course shall we take?” said coldstream to his wife, after explaining to her the difficulty of coming to a decision.

“let us ask god to guide us, dearest,” was the reply of io, a reply given with a smile, though she was struggling to keep down tears.