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cattle at night. I became quite familiar with their movements and timings and the weak points in the enclosures that the creatures were penned in. The villages were all alike and the villagers had similar habits in tending their sheep or cattle. They could never anticipate where I’d strike next. I covered a large perimeter. If I took a sheep from this village today, my next target would be elsewhere, in your terms, several days later. In between, they’d not know where to look for me. Some parts of Mempi hills had deep ravines, quite inaccessible to human beings. I hid myself in them and planned to attack with considerable calculation, taking care not to be seen in the same area again. I had perfected the art - no village was too far out, and no fencing was impregnable. I walked in and out of places, hardly aware at that time how very desperate the villagers were beginning to feel. They began to adopt defensive measures, such as keeping up a bonfire all night, and posting vigilant guards, armed with sharp weapons, and in one or two places they had even scattered poisoned meat for me; but I’d not touch such things - only some wildcat or mongrel nosing around ended its career then and there.
     
When he announced his name as Captain, they always asked, ‘Of what?’He would always reply, ‘Just Captain. Mister Captain, if you like.’
    ‘Oh, we thought it was an army or football captain.’He was used to such quips wherever he went, but he could not afford to mind it and treated it good-humouredly. A man about town, he had to be seeing people constantly on business - running his circus, which had its origin in a certain ‘Grand Irish Circus’. When questioned on the Irish origin or contents of his circus, he generally explained, ‘When I was down and out at Poona, I met a chap, a down-and-out Irishman, who owned a half-starved pony, a yellow monkey, and a parrot which could pick up numbers and alphabets from a stack of cards. He took them about and displayed them here and there in the city. He dispensed with his pony, selling it off to a tonga owner, and managed with the parrot and the monkey, which became his sole assets; he could maintain them inexpensively with a handful of nuts for the monkey and a guava fruit for the parrot. He had a portable signboard painted, GRAND IRISH CIRCUS, and set it up in the town hall compound, street pavements, or market square and attracted a crowd. He called himself O’Brien though he had a brown skin and never uttered a word of English or Irish but spoke only “The Native Language” in order to establish rapport with his public, as he always took the trouble to explain.’Captain always wondered what sort of an Irishman he was, but said to himself, ‘If I could call myself Captain, by the same logic he could be O’Brien.’ At some point in their association O’Brien took up some other business and sold his good will and the circus to Captain for fifty rupees. Captain used the signboard, monkey, and parrot to make a living following O’Brien’s tradition. Feeling that he should do better, he approached one Dadhaji, owner of ‘Dadhaji Grand Circus’.
    The grand old man was reclining in an easy chair in his special tent. Young Captain approached him with all humility with the monkey on his shoulder and holding the parrot cage in his hand. Dadhaji watched the visitor for some time and asked, ‘What do you want?’
    ‘I want to work here, sir.’
    ‘What do you know of animals?’Captain was afraid to give an answer. After waiting for a moment the man thundered, ‘Have you no answer? Be frank. I would appreciate it. I like people young or old to be frank.’
    Captain felt like turning round and fleeing. But he was standing too close to the great man to run away. His aides, standing at different points, were watching him with contempt. The only animal Captain had known was an alley cat and its mates in his boyhood in Abu Lane. And a mongrel he was fond of, which used to