Anyhow, the parrots give a
good useful touch of local colour. I suppose you've
introduced some tigers into the scenery? An Indian landscape
would have rather a bare, unfinished look without a tiger or
two in the middle distance.''
``I've got a hen-tiger somewhere in the poem,'' said
Clovis, hunting through his notes. ``Here she is:
`` `The tawny tigress 'mid the tangled teak
Drags to her purring cubs' enraptured ears
The harsh death-rattle in the pea-fowl's beak,
A jungle lullaby of blood and tears.' ''
Bertie van Tahn rose hurriedly from his recumbent position
and made for the glass door leading into the next
compartment.
``I think your idea of home life in the jungle is
perfectly horrid,'' he said. ``The cobra was sinister
enough, but the improvised rattle in the tiger-nursery is
the limit. If you're going to make me turn hot and cold all
over I may as well go into the steam room at once.''
``Just listen to this line,'' said Clovis; ``it would make
the reputation of any ordinary poet:
`` `and overhead
The pendulum-patient Punkah, parent of stillborn breeze.
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