My Lord, I may go no farther, said the Cambodian.The young white man turned in astonishment upon his native guide. Behindthem lay the partially cleared trail along which they had come. It wasovergrown with tall grass that concealed the tree-stumps th... Read more

My Lord, I may go no farther, said the Cambodian.The young white man turned in astonishment upon his native guide. Behindthem lay the partially cleared trail along which they had come. It wasovergrown with tall grass that concealed the tree-stumps that had beenleft behind the axes of the road-builders. Before them lay a ravine, atthe near edge of which the trail ended. Beyond the ravine was theprimitive jungle untouched by man.Why, we haven't even started yet! exclaimed the white man. You cannotturn back now. What do you suppose I hired you for?I promised to take my lord to the jungle, replied the Cambodian.There it is. I did not promise to enter it.Gordon King lighted a cigarette. Let's talk this thing over, myfriend, he said. It is yet early morning. We can get into the jungleas far as I care to go and out again before sundown.The Cambodian shook his head. I will wait for you here, my lord, hesaid; but I may not enter the jungle, and if you are wise you willnot.Why? demanded King.There are wild elephants, my lord, and tigers, replied the Cambodian,and panthers which hunt by day as well as by night.Why do you suppose we brought two rifles? demanded the white. AtKompong-Thom they told me you were a good shot and a brave man. You knewthat we should have no need for rifles up to this point. No, sir, youhave lost your nerve at the last minute, and I do not believe that it isbecause of tigers or wild elephants.There are other things deep in the jungle, my lord, that no man maylook upon and live.What, for example? demanded King.The ghosts of my ancestors, answered the Cambodian, the Khmers whodwelt here in great cities ages ago. Within the dark shadows of thejungle the ruins of their cities still stand, and down the dark aislesof the forest pass the ancient kings and warriors and little sad-facedqueens on ghostly elephants. Fleeing always from the horrible fate thatovertook them in life, they pass for ever down the corridors of thejungle, and with them are the millions of the ghostly dead that oncewere their subjects. We might escape My Lord the Tiger and the wildelephants, but no man may look upon the ghosts of the dead Khmers andlive. Less