The chill roused her finally and she swung her arms to renew the circulation.  Near by she saw a tree, in the crotch of which reposed a platform, and upon this platform sat a shrine.  A few withered flowers hung about the gross neck of the idol, and withered flowers lay scattered at the base of the tree.  There was also a bundle of dry rushes which some devotee had forgotten.  At least, yonder platform would afford safety through the night.  So, with the last bit of strength at her command, she gathered up the rushes and climbed to the platform, arranging her bed behind the idol.  She covered her shoulders with the rushes and drew her knees up to her chin.  She had forgotten her father, Bruce, the happy days in a far country; she had but a single thought, to sleep.  What the want of sleep could not perform exhaustion could; and presently she lay still.

Thus, she neither saw nor heard the pious pilgrims who were on their way to Allaha to pray in that temple known to offer protection against wild beasts.  Fortunately, they did not observe her.

The pilgrim is always a pilgrim in India; it becomes, one might say, a fascinating kind of sport.  To most of them, short pilgrimages are as tame as rabbits would be to the hunter of lions.  They will walk from Bombay to Benares, from Madras to Llassa, begging and bragging all the way.  Eventually they become semi-holy, distinguished citizens in a clutter of mud huts.

They deposited some corn and fruit at the foot of the tree and departed, leaving Kathlyn in peace.  But later, when the moon poured its white, cold radiance over her face it awakened her, and it took her some time to realize where she was.

Below, belly deep in the river, stood several water buffaloes, their sweeping horns glistening like old ivory in the moonshine.  Presently a leopard stole down to the brink and lapped the water greedily, from time to time throwing a hasty, apprehensive glance over his sleek shoulders.  The buffaloes never stirred; where they were it was safe.  Across the river a bulky shadow moved into the light, and a fat, brown bear took his tithe of the water.  The leopard snarled and slunk off.  The bear washed his face, possibly sticky with purloined wild honey, and betook himself back to his lair.

Kathlyn suddenly became aware of the fact that she was a spectator to a scene such as few human beings are permitted to see:  truce water, where the wild beasts do not kill one another.  She grew so interested that she forgot her own plight.  The tree stood only a few feet from the water, so she saw everything distinctly.

Later, when his majesty the tiger made his appearance dramatically, the buffaloes simply moved closer together, presenting a formidable frontage of horns.