WHEN Porter came back from Ceylon he was made much of by the boys in the exporting house of which he was a member. He was a good fellow whom they were glad to have with them again, and he was to nominate his successor in the beautiful island, which has been likened to a pearl drop on the brow of India. So they lunched him and dined him and toasted him at the club, and pumped him full of their combined good-will and dry of what might accrue to their individual interests. Porter was visibly glad to get back to the land of good cocktails, but he exhibited a certain reluctance to talk of his life in the tea island. Instead of answering their sallies forth with he would plead a vast ignorance of their slang and demand explicit translations in apparent wild desire to resume his old habits of speech. And even when they inquired about Jordan, who had followed him out a year or two before, he replied briefly that he was all right.

       Now, it was not like the Porter of old, and none of the boys could understand it. It was exasperating. One of them, in the hope of forcing matters, applied boldly to the firm for the coveted post, but he was told that as Mr. Porter knew more about Ceylon than anyone else in the house he would naturally be best fitted to choose his successor. And there it stayed for weeks, with everybody on the anxious seat, until finally it became known that even the "private office" thought the time had arrived for Porter to speak. That night, at the club, when some one rather pointedly toasted Porter's "lucky dog of a successor" he shook his head negatively, and said slowly:

       "I am not at all certain he will be a lucky dog."

       It sent a thrill of expectation through us, for we felt it might prelude some definite statement, but no one spoke for fear of giving him a chance to parry.

       "So," he went on, "I will not drink that toast — just yet. You can never tell. Jordan said you gave him just such a rousing send off, and what is the result?"

       "What was the result?" The boys looked at one another in astonishment. No one had heard that anything had happened to Jordan.

       "Of course," resumed Porter, replying to the looks, "some of you might not think much of it, but it jostled me some, I confess. It was a curious business."

       Yet no one spoke. It was up to Porter to go on, and he knew it as well as we did. Finally he said, meditatively, "Well I suppose I'd better tell it you and then you can judge for yourselves.

       "In the first place," he began, "Ceylon is not merely an immense tea garden, and Sir Thomas Lipton is not the god of the people. There are other interests. The island is spotted with pagodas, or, as the Sinhalese call them, dagobas, larger in size than the capitol in Washington and surrounded by ruins of cities which in the time of the great Gautama had populations of a quarter million. And the newcomer soon finds that the assurances of western civilization make no impression whatever on the traditions of the native. If anything, the traditions get the better of the assurances; swallow them up as it were. You feel that your vaunted progress is picayune in the face of the great past of these people who still cultivate a bow tree planted centuries before Christ was born. It struck me that way, but I am no longer twenty-one, so I was able to bow to it temporarily until I could get back here among you, but when it touched Jordan it vanquished him.

       "Jordan came out to see us full of ideas. He had the assurance and he was going to do great things. He was going to introduce new methods and amaze the local trade with his manner of dealing, but he might as well have tried to supplant Buddha. He reckoned without the traditions. He fought them for a year and ranted as much longer. Then he gave in. His interest in the business became perfunctory. He was not neglectful, but he became a good deal more occupied with club tournaments. I took him to task for that, and then he dropped away from the club. For a long while I could not find out where he put in his spare time, but when I did I wished I had not spoken about the tournaments. He was mixing with the natives over in the pettah, or Blacktown, as we called our 'quarter.'

       "Now when a white man hobnobs with natives in Ceylon there is always, to use that new slang of yours, 'something doing.' The subject was not one with which I could easily approach him. It was none of my business, and he did not make it such by mentioning it. He would go away after business hours, and although we lived in the same bungalow, I would often not see him until next morning. I asked him Once where he had been. He said he had discovered a small dagoba a short distance inland and was making a study of it. I doubted the wisdom of this but kept my own counsel.

       "One Saturday afternoon I resolved to visit one of our interior stations. I said nothing to Jordan of the journey. He was not around anyhow when I climbed into the horse coach. The way was through the jungle, but there was a moon, so when night fell we kept right on. Our horses were untrained, half-crazy stallions, who plunged and kicked all the way to the first rest house, which we did not reach until ten o'clock. The rest house in Ceylon is a sort of combined station and hotel, and here I decided to sleep until the zebu cart came along at dawn to carry me farther inland. The house was a one-story stucco affair surrounded by a deep veranda. It stood in the middle of a clearing. I went to bed at once, but I could not sleep for the heat, the insects and the howling of the jackals. After awhile I got up and went to a window and looked out. The moon lit up the open field, and against the dense background of the jungle millions of fireflies gleamed fitfully. Occasionally a flying fox or a night bird squawked dismally across between the trees. I was sitting, my chin on my hands, half awake, half dreaming when along the veranda slowly walked a man and a woman. They made no sound on the baked floor, and their voices droned too low to be more than barely heard. They were perfectly concealed from all exterior view, yet they were plainly silhouetted for me against the light of the outside field. She was Sinhalese. I knew that at once and he — well, it was Jordan.

       "They stopped opposite my window, and it was easy to see that they had met before. I suppose it was up to me to go back to bed, but I was too astonished to move; I was petrified. While I looked, the notes of a distant bugle announced the coming of a zebu cart. The girl turned away immediately and ran swiftly around the corner of the house towards the native quarters. He entered the door of the house. The cart was going back to town, and when the bullocks had been changed Jordan went out and climbed in under the hood. They were gone in a few minutes, and when day broke I went in the opposite direction.

       "By Monday morning I was back in town again, filled with the determination to have it out with Jordan. I meant to pull him up straight in spite of any rebuff, and I began at once.

       "'Jordan,' I said, 'I went out to the Peak station on Saturday, and I stopped over midnight at the first rest house beyond Damballa.'

       "I saw him start slightly, but he replied nonchalantly enough —'Well?'

       "'Well, a curious thing happened. I learned while there that a young American in the employ of a house here in Colombo is carrying on a clandestine affair with the rest agent's daughter. In fact, they were seen together while I was there, Saturday night."

       "He went livid.

       "'Who saw us,' he exclaimed, jumping up. 'Who saw us?'

       "'I did.'

       "'Oh! Is that all? Why don't you scare a fellow to death? Anyone else?'

       "'No,' I answered; 'no one else. But look here, Jordan, don't you rate the personal equation rather highly? If this should get out you know —–'

       "'No, no,' he replied, greatly relieved. 'It is not that I do not care for what may happen at this end of the line, but I care more for what may happen at the other end. If her people should hear of it she would lose caste; they would thrust her forth — murder her perhaps.'

       "'But it cannot go on forever,' I argued; 'sooner or later it will get out.'

       "'Perhaps not. Everything will be arranged by another week.'

       "'"Arranged" — for what?'

       "'For the wedding, of course.'

       "'My God, man,' I cried, 'you're not going to marry her?'

       "'And my God, man,' he cried in return, 'what did you think I was going to do with her?'

       "I was stunned. It had not struck me that way. I mumbled an apology, saying something about the difference in race and religion, but he was furiously angry, and would not listen. He rushed from the house, and it was a full week before the barest civilities passed between us. But Jordan is a good fellow, and he soon realized that my attitude, under the circumstances, was quite natural. Before he had set off for the rest-house again we had patched it up, and I had put the best face I could on the matter by wishing him godspeed. Nevertheless, I racked my brain with a hundred schemes for breaking off the preposterous affair. None of them, however, was worthy of Second consideration, and I was in despair, when bright and early next morning Jordan rushed in with news that gave me hope.

       "'I say, old man,' he cried, 'They are going to take her from me!'

       "'The deuce they are?' I could have yelled with joy, but I held it in. 'How?' I asked.

       "'Magic rites! Oh, I know you don't believe in it,' he continued in reply to my incredulous stare. 'But if you had seen what I've seen over in Blacktown, you'd treat it seriously enough.'

       "This was the result of his contact with the natives.

       "'You'll be bowing to the bow-tree next,' I said. 'But what are they going to do to her?'

       "'Well, they say she is Taincama, that is, possessed of a devil."

       "'A devil?'

       "'Yes — that's me. And next Poya night they will hold a Yakun-neteena and drive out the demon.'

       "'Sarcastic beggars. But they cannot drive you out against her will.'

       "'Oh, yes they can,' he replied, ignoring the point of my remark. 'Why, man, I tell you I've seen them do worse than that in the pettah. I've seen a Kattadiya change a woman's love to hate in a single night. Call it hypnotism if you will, but I know they can do it, and what is more, she knows they can do it.'

       "'Ah, there's the rub. If she believes it, it will be so. What a people. But maybe in spite of all, she will refuse to be dispossessed.'

       "'That is what I am most afraid of. You see, it is an ancient ceremony, and blood is always demanded. The old Kandyan kings required the sacrifice of a virgin. The English stopped all that, and now-a-days they are usually satisfied with the killing of a jungle cock. But there is a tradition that in case a woman refuses to be dispossessed on Poya night the demon has the power to appear and carry her off. They may take advantage of that to sacrifice her.'

       "'Well, you are on the horns of a dilemma. Had we not better inform the police?'

       "'It would do no good. You may be sure that if she dies there will be no visible marks of violence. No, if anything is to be done I must do it myself.'

       "'What do you intend to do?'

       "'Don't know yet. But say, old man, do me this favor. Go to the Yakun-neteena and keep your eye peeled. It's just possible I may need you. For I'm going to ruin their beastly rites in spite of them. It's to be held on the seashore over near Mount Lavinia — you know the place. Will you go?'

       "Of course, I was anxious to go, for aside from my personal interest in the matter the ceremony would be worth seeing. Poya night, or full-moon night, was only a day off, and the Sinhalese, as usual, were preparing for high revel. During that day and the next Jordan was particularly busy with outside matters, and I got no chance to question him further on his intentions, and when the time to set out arrived I could not find him at all. I let a military friend, Major Starns, into the secret, and took him along. We traveled in a zebu cart along the beach, and arrived at the place of ceremony about ten o'clock.

       "It was a glorious night. The beach was as smooth and as white as a floor, and we could hear the sea breaking on the coral reef far out. In the shadow of the palms a crowd of natives was gathered to witness the ceremony. In their midst was a rude altar covered with old leaves and betel flowers, and from the trees hung lamps made of cocoanut shells filled with burning oil. In front of the altar stood the Kattadiya, or devil priest, chanting an invocation. He was a big, brown fellow, stripped, except for his waist cloth and garlands of garulla flowers that hung on his head and loins. He had several assistant devil dancers gorgeously dressed and daubed with paint. Probably they were full of bhang, for their dance to the noise of the tom-toms was the wildest and weirdest thing of its kind I ever witnessed. They kept it up for an hour after we got there, and then the object of all the uproar was led forth from a nearby hut.

       "She was good looking, even for a Sinhalese, and barring the prejudice of race, I did not blame Jordan for falling in love with her. They led her into the circle of dancers. The Kattadiya grabbed a torch from one of his assistants and holding it close to her eyes chanted long and loud a command for the obsessing demon to depart. It is a wonder she was not blinded. She stared defiantly at the chief priest as long as her optic nerve held out, and then perforce closed her eyes. The incantation ceased immediately, and a sigh of approbation rose up from the crowd of natives at this first sign of weakening. Again the dancing began and pandemonium reigned for awhile. Then silence and a command for the demon to depart. Speaking through the girl's lips it refused very emphatically to go. And again she was put to the Ordeal of the torch. While this was going on Major Starns whispered in my ear that he was sure he could recognize the tones of Jordan's voice when the girl spoke. I told him the weirdness of the scene had affected his nerves.

       "After the light was removed the second time, the girl was placed in the middle of a circle of chetties containing decoctions from which the fumes rose up in a cloud, almost obscuring her. The Kattadiya walked around her, conducting himself for all the world like a stage hypnotist, and the devil dancers whirled around and around the outermost edge of the circle. The noise was deafening. Suddenly above all we heard a piercing shriek, and the girl fell in a heap, over-turning some of the chetties. There was silence instantly, and the whole whirling movement ceased. The Kattadiya raised her up and breathed hard upon her lips, droning an incantation meanwhile. This was the point when all other possessed women had succumbed and had become the puppets of the chief magician. He placed his dhorjee or wand against her forehead and attempted to lead her blindly to the altar. But she came partially to her senses again and defied him. Then his countenance underwent a change; it became almost fiendish. He dropped her to his feet and began a wild exhortation to Vishnu. The devil dancers fell back and the spectators fell forward in terror of what might portend. I could not understand the exact meaning of the words, but I made out that it was an appeal to the gods to send Reeri Yakseya, the demon, to claim the soul of the rebellious girl. It was a critical moment. Looking down I caught the glint of a pistol barrel by the side of Major Starns, and following his lead I got my own iron in readiness. Suddenly there was a shout.

       "'He comes! He comes! Behold! Reeri Yakseya! Oh, lost one. Repent! Repent!'

       "The Kattadiya had ceased his chatter and stood immovable in his tracks, his gaze towards the sea.

       "'My God!' cried Starns, 'look there!'

       "I had seen it already. It came tearing up the beach, a thing of dread and horror. Fire was in its eye and destruction in the breath of its nostril. From its maw came flame, and from its sides streaked the gore of those that got in its path. The people prostrated themselves as to a Juggernaut, but it stayed not for these. As it approached, the big priest piously averted his eyes and his body, and being in its way it butted him thirty feet. It paused momentarily by the circle of chetties, panting heavily from its exertions. Then it whirled about and was gone, taking the girl with it. We watched it as it sped along the beach, but not until it had disappeared from view around a headland did we dare look at one another. A voice in our ears startled us. We turned, and there was the big priest limping under a score of sacred bruises.

       "'Oh, masters,' he wailed, 'thou hast seen. Thou wilt believe now. Thou wilt carry the news of this a far to all thy kindred? Oh, Brahma! Oh, Siva! Oh, Vishnu!'

       "'Yes, we will,' replied the Major. 'Come, let us get out of this.'

       "Down on the beach the noise of the breakers was a protection, and we had our laugh out.

       "'But where do you suppose he got it?' asked the Major at last.

       "'Well,' I replied, 'The motor carriage arrived to-day on that P. & R. steamer. I suppose he robbed the bungalow for the trappings, and phosphorus is cheap. But great gasoline didn't he go it.'

       "And that is the story. He married her and they are living together in the bungalow. Her people believe her dead and in torment, but she seems happy enough. A sad case, boys!"

       When Porter stopped talking there was silence, and then a roar of laughter.

       "Good, old Porter," cried one of the boys.

       "But which of us gets the job?" asked another.

       "I am going to let you draw lots."

       There were cries of "Good boy," and again the toast was proposed: "Here's to the lucky dog!"

       And that time Porter drained his glass.

(THE END)