that it upset. The unfortunate travellers were then forced by some of the gang to sit at the side of the road, with their backs to the cart and their faces to the ground, while their baggage was searched for valuables by the remainder. The gangs which frequented these roads have now broken up, and the caste has practically quitted road dacoity for the simpler, more paying, and less risky business of stealing officials' office-boxes and ryots' cattle. Cattle-theft is now the most popular calling among them. They are clever at handling animals, and probably the popularity of the jallikats (see Maravan) has its origin in the demands of a life, which always included much cattle-lifting. The stolen animals are driven great distances (as much as 20 or 30 miles) on the night of the theft, and are then hidden for the day either in a friend's house, or among hills and jungles. The next night they are taken still further, and again hidden. Pursuit is by this time hopeless, as the owner has no idea even in which direction to search. He, therefore, proceeds to the nearest go-between (these individuals are well-known to every one), and offers him a reward if he will bring back the cattle. This reward is called tuppukūli, or payment for clues, and is very usually as much as half the value of the animals stolen. The Kallan undertakes to search for the lost bullocks, returns soon, and states that he has found them, receives his tuppukūli, and then tells the owner of the property that, if he will go to a spot named, which is usually in some lonely neighbourhood, he will find his cattle tied up there. This information is always correct. If, on the other hand, the owner reports the theft to the police, no Kallan will help him to recover his animals, and these are eventually sold in other districts or Travancore, or even sent across from Tuticorin to Ceylon. Consequently,
