THE PHANTOM PALKI. Charles Johnston. Late November 1889. I remember a certain camping ground in the cool heart of a mango grove. The lucid air was They were very respectful, nay, deferential, for all their kidnapping, and if I had had some breakfast, say some good coffee and rolls, it would not have been half bad. But I was beastly hungry and getting hungrier. What had become of Punaswami of the scarlet turban, I could not even speculate on.