swarmed up the tree. Having reached his former position, he once
more seized the Baital's hair, and with all the force of his arms--for
he was beginning to feel really angry--he tore it from its hold and
dashed it to the ground, saying, "O wretch, tell me who thou art?"

Then, as before, the Raja slid deftly down the trunk, and hurried to
the aid of his son, who in obedience to orders, had fixed his grasp
upon the Vampire's neck. Then, too, as before, the Vampire,
laughing aloud, slipped through their fingers and returned to its
dangling-place.

To fail twice was too much for Raja Vikram's temper, which was
right kingly and somewhat hot. This time he bade his son strike the
Baital's head with his sword. Then, more like a wounded bear of
Himalaya than a prince who had established an era, he hurried up
the tree, and directed a furious blow with his sabre at the
Vampire's lean and calfless legs. The violence of the stroke made
its toes loose their hold of the bough, and when it touched the
ground, Dharma Dhwaj's blade fell heavily upon its matted brown
hair. But the blows appeared to have lighted on iron-wood--to
judge at least from the behaviour of the Baital, who no sooner
heard the question, "O wretch, who art thou?" than it returned in
loud glee and merriment to its old position.

Five mortal times did Raja Vikram repeat this profitless labour.
But so far from losing heart, he quite entered into the spirit of the
adventure. Indeed he would have continued climbing up that tree
and taking that corpse under his arm--he found his sword useless--
and bringing it down, and asking it who it was, and seeing it slip
through his fingers, six times sixty times, or till the end of the