"It is time for us to go on, Meer Sahib," said Burma, as he reached the place where the new Governor was lying, under some trees close to the half-ruined village. "Come."

"And our horses; what is to be done with them?"

"Leave them here, under charge of the grooms, and you can send for them afterwards; if indeed you care to have them in the fort, where you cannot ride. They will be quite safe here. At present they would be a serious embarrassment to us; and if one neighed, the whole fort would be alarmed, and I cannot tell what would happen."

"And can you tell now, my friend?"

"Pretty well. We shall land at a spot not far from the old Syud's house. May God have him and his child in His keeping. I will send to the Jemadar Sheykh Baban Sahib, and tell him to come to you with a few men on whom he can depend. He has always disliked Osman Beg, but they have been nearly at open feud since the night poor little ZÓra was carried off, and was almost married to the Governor. Sharp words passed between them on that occasion, and the act produced such indignation among the garrison of the fort and our Beydurs who are on duty in it, that I marvel Osman Beg escaped, or was not put to death. I am taking thirty more of my best men with me, and, with yours and mine together, we are more than a match for any who may dare to oppose us. But no one will draw a sword, Meer Sahib," continued Burma, laughing, "except it may be the four Abyssinian slaves he has and his actual retainers, who are not more than ten in number, if there be so many. I spared him once, the night we, Runga and I, and Bheema, the horn-blower, who hooted like a horned owl as our signal, rescued little ZÓra, for Runga would not let me go in and slay him as he slept; but if he crosses me now, by all the Gods, he dies."

"No, no, my friend, it must not be so," returned the Governor, earnestly. "His life must be spared, for there are many accusations against him, which our Royal mistress would fain have unravelled."

"Ah! about Eyn-ool-Moolk and Elias Khan, and the PadrÉ at Moodgul, who is gone to Goa," returned Burma, laughing; "but we know all about that. Why did not the Nawab send that fierce priest instead of the gentle PadrÉ, of whom all lament the absence? Then they would have found out everything at Beejapoor. But it is an old story now."

"Hardly, my friend. It is not three months since Abbas Khan slew Elias, and Eyn-ool-Moolk was then at his busiest. To me it does not matter, but the Queen's orders must be obeyed; and Abbas Khan could not be sent here, as he has taken a division of the array to the King's camp; and Runga, as you know, has gone with him."

"Yes, so Runga wrote in the letter; and his wife fell to crying about it, and would not see you. Runga, methinks, is a fool for his pains; but he loves that boy as if he were his own son, and there is no use in any of us trying to persuade him that he is a fool for following him. But we loiter, Meer Sahib. Come! my people are already departing in small groups, and your men had better divide and follow; we shall meet them again at the river side, where the boats are." And after a few directions to their followers, Burma and his companion entered the narrow intricate path through the then thick jungle which led to the water's edge.

Very different now was the appearance of the Beydur Naik from that he presented when he had been awakened that morning. He had bathed and thoroughly purified himself from the excess of the previous night. He had put off the gay clothes in which he had dressed himself at Korikul, and was now attired in the usual war dress of his clan, the conical leather cap, with soft leather drawers, leggings, and sandals.

For arms he wore in his waistband a long knife-dagger, and a sword with a long Genoa blade, while a small shield hung at his back completed his equipment. Nor, indeed, were there many matchlock men among the party, for the place, if it resisted at all, must be carried sword in hand. No one spoke except in a whisper, and the Governor felt assured that the men who were with him knew their work thoroughly, and were confident of success.

Such was the interest that this stealthy march excited in the young Governor's mind, that they had reached the bank overhanging the Krishna before he had thought it even near. He had not yet seen the fort, for it had been concealed by trees; but he had heard the dull plashing murmur of the river, and occasionally a deeper moaning sound which mingled hoarsely with it, and for which he could not account.

Presently the path rose a little, and the broad river and giant mass of the fort were disclosed. Not clearly, however, for the waning moon was dimmed with clouds, and none of the details of the rugged hill were visible. What could be seen of it seemed to blend with the hills beyond the river, indeed, to form a part of them. But the gloom, the strange conical hill, and the rushing water of the river, formed altogether the most impressive scene the young Governor had ever looked on.

"Ha!" said Burma, in a hissing whisper. "Look! our friend up yonder holds revel to-night, and the Gods favour us. O Krishna! I vow to thee ten sheep at the Temple of Gopalswami, and to feed a hundred Brahmins, if thou aid us, as thou didst ArjÓona in the field of Kooroo KshÉtra; and to thee, O gentle nymph ChÁya, a pooja and a feast to a hundred Brahmins at thy shrine." And he held up his joined hands towards the river, while, at the same time, he bowed his head in reverence. "She lives there, Sir," he said, simply, "up in the rocks yonder, above the pool; and we, who live here, reverence her, and propitiate her."

"Her! who?" asked his companion.

"Only ChÁya Bhugwuti, who dwells in the cataract, which you will see to-morrow. Now, I know she is placable and kind, as she was the night we crossed for ZÓra; and she is always to be depended upon when justice has to be done."

"But you said he was at his revels. Who?"

"Who? why Osman Beg to be sure. Don't you see the lights in the palace up yonder, and torches flitting to and fro?" and Burma pointed to lights which seemed high up in the sky. "That steady light is in the palace; and hush! do you not hear music?" The sound was music, of beating of drums, and of fiddles, and women's voices mingled, which faintly reached them, as a light puff of wind blew from the fort.

"What fun it will be, Meer Sahib! what fun!" cried Burma, rubbing his hands and chuckling. "What fun to catch the Nawab Sahib and his companions altogether. But we must wait awhile till they are properly drunk. They are pretty well on by this time, and to judge from what I have seen and tasted, the Feringi wine the Nawab gets from Moodgul is not weak. Come down to the riverside and watch; I see my people there, though to you they appear like so many stones," and they descended the rocky path together.

"Ye have done well, Nursinga," said Burma to a tall, powerful man, who came forward as they reached the foot of the descent. "How many boats have ye brought?"

"There are six in all, four large and two small; and we should have been here earlier but for people who will attend the anniversary to-morrow, and two companies of dancing women who have vows to perform and are singing to the Nawab. It took a good while to take them all across and bring back the boats; but they are all ready. Will you cross now, master? ChÁya Bhugwuti is very quiet at present; but there have been clouds in the west all day, and if rain has fallen, who can answer for her?"

"Is there any one in the house of the old Dervish?" asked Burma.

"Not a living creature near it except ZÓra's pigeons. I went through the place before sunset, for some of the dancing women wanted to put up there; but I told them and their people that since the old man and ZÓra left, ghosts and devils had taken possession of it, and tormented those who went there. Then some of the girls looked in, and something moved in a dark corner—I think it was poor ZÓra's old cat—and I cried out 'Tiger! tiger!' and they all ran away. Yes, it is quite empty, master."

"Then we will cross as soon as the lights up there are put out, Meer Sahib; and meanwhile I will send a small boat-load of men across. Go, thou, Nursinga, send for some of our men from the village; and tell the Jemadar that he must meet me with a few of his men on the King's service, for there is some work to do, and that I will meet him in the Dervish's house; and tell him what it is. Go at once, and, when you are ready, light a small fire on the terrace roof of ZÓra's zenÁna."

The man made a deep reverence, and stepping into the smallest of the basket boats, in which six men were lying, roused them, and pushed it into the stream; and it was anxiously watched over the rapid current till it entered the backwater beyond, and was quickly rowed along until it reached the landing-place close to the house we already know.

Nursinga did not delay in his errand. First he ran to the house of the head of the Beydurs who were on duty in the fort, and roused him. "There is some work to do, brother," he said, "and the master is waiting to cross. Take twenty men, and go to meet him at the Syud's house."

"What is it?" asked the other, anxiously.

"How am I to know? Are we in Burma Naik's secrets? Enough that we obey. Is Sheykh Baban Jemadar gone up to the palace?"

"Not he, nor any of the men, except a few profligates who would go anywhere after the women that dance. And they are drinking much; twice have the cans come down for spirits."

"Come, then; let us take the old man with us to meet the master, and he will know what he wants."

The house of the Jemadar of the garrison was close by, and the two men went at once to it. Some persons on guard were sitting in the outer verandah, near the door, smoking, who challenged them; but taking the message to their master, he was soon aroused, and understood what was required; and, having given orders for the assembly, very silently, of his men at various points, so as to be within call, he, with a few attendants, accompanied Nursinga to the deserted house.

"May his house become desolate who made this desolate!" said the old soldier to one of his subordinates. "How pleasant it used to be to hear the holy Dervish preach the word of the Prophet, and to see ZÓra, like a beauteous flower, among us! I say, Let his house be desolate who made this desolate; for Alla is just, my friends—just and watchful!"

"Ameen! Ameen!" was the response from several as they sat down in the verandah so well known to all, and began to smoke, while the Beydur had proceeded to the roof of the cloister, collected a few dry sticks and leaves, and, striking a light with a flint and steel, blew some tinder placed between dry leaves into a blaze, and lighted the little fire, which flamed up for a moment and went out.

"That is enough, Meer Sahib," said Burma, who had been watching. "Now we know that Sheykh Baban is there, my men are there, and the lights have been out some time in the palace. There is no need for delay now; come. 'Bismilla!' as you say; or, as we Beydurs cry, 'Hari BÓl!' Let us embark and lead, and the boats will follow in turn, one after another. Bring half of your people with you, the rest can follow, and with me and some of my folk the boat will be heavy enough. Now, friends, sit close and sit steady. Jey ChÁya Bhugwuti! Jey Krishna Mata!" he cried, throwing water into the air at each invocation; while the boat danced down the rapid for a little, and was soon turned into the backwater by its powerful rowers, who worked with muffled paddles. An instant more and they had landed, and, under cover of the thick wood, were making the best of their way to the house, while two of the rowers pulled the boat up the stream, and fastened it to some bushes near the back of the old house.

The movement had been so silently effected that those who were concealed there knew nothing of the arrival of the new party; and it was not till the burly form of Burma Naik stood among them that they were aware of his presence. All had started to their feet, but their apprehension was at once relieved when the Naik, in his hard Canarese tongue, so that all should understand, said aloud, "Sheykhjee, I bring you your new Governor from Queen Chand Beebee; come and kiss his feet and salute your new chief, for he is honourable and worthy."

There was not a moment's hesitation, dark as it was. While the Jemadar Sheykh Baban offered the hilt of his sword, and grasped the hand of the new-comer in an earnest "Salaam Aliekoom," his example was followed by all the Mussulmans present; while the Beydurs, after their own fashion, touched the Meer Sahib's feet and neck, and thus swore fealty to him.

"Make a torch of straw," said Burma, "and let the Governor read his own commission and show the Queen's seal before we advance, which will assure all that this act is done on the part of the Government, and not as robbers or rebels." The materials were soon found, and as the twisted grass burst into a blaze, the commission was well read by the scribe whom the Meer Sahib had brought with him; the Queen's seal, and the green official paper on which the order was written, were examined by all.

This brief process formed a strange scene; the figures of those present stood out from the black darkness beyond with vivid distinctness, while their faces, in which wonder and excitement struggled for mastery, wild and strange as many of the Beydurs were, formed a sight which none who witnessed ever forgot; and a shepherd boy who had paid an early visit to his fold declared next day that witches and demons were holding revel like the Nawab above, and that he had seen forms moving about in a bright flame that was burning, which wonderful story was confirmed in the minds of many simple folk by seeing that day the black ashes of the fire scattered about the verandah.

"Now then, Sahib, I humbly represent that I and mine are ready," said the old Jemadar. "Any one the noble Queen sends to us is as our father and mother; and, as your face is bright and kind, we hope you will be good to us, your servants, and protect instead of oppress us; and so your name shall be honoured while in future our evening lamps will be lighted in your name. Bismilla! Come on!" and, drawing his sword, he led the way to the gate of the village.

In the little market-place many men had gathered together, doubtful as to the real nature of the movement; but it spread quickly from mouth to mouth, while the three leaders pressed on up the steep ascent without pausing, being joined by parties stationed in various bastions and guard-houses, one after another.

At the last division of the ascent, where the party must emerge from the narrow pathway overhung with rocks, by which they had been concealed hitherto, there was a brief colloquy among the leaders and a division of the work made to each. Burma Naik with his men were to turn in by the broken wall, near the kitchen; the Meer Sahib and the Jemadar were to carry the front court and verandah of the palace, while a third party of Beydurs were to prevent all chance of escape on the north side.

As yet no one had given an alarm; but a man posted on the highest look-out tower fancied he smelt the smoke of match-rope and heard low whispers, and looking over the edge of the parapet saw the forms of men gathered together in groups. His vision was not very clear, for he had been drinking hard; but there was evidently no doubt, for the men below him were moving, and he fired his matchlock. Happily the ball hit no one, or the consequences would have entailed bloodshed; as it was, and in the condition in which those in the palace were, the report had little effect in arousing anyone, and the approach of a hostile party was of all events least expected.

As Burma turned into the rear entrance, the Governor and his men were in front, and with a sudden rush they leaped upon the basement of the palace and burst open a door of the audience hall. Johur and another of the Abyssinian slaves tried to oppose those who entered, but it was only for a moment, when they were bound and passed outside to be guarded. The hall itself was a strange sight. As the latter part of the night had been chilly, the dancing women—when the dancing ceased—and the musicians and followers lay down where they were, wrapped in sheets, and had fallen into profound sleep; and now one and then another of those sleeping figures awoke, rubbed its eyes, and, in the case of the women, rent the air with piercing shrieks and cries for mercy. First it appeared as if a band of dacoits or robbers had surprised them, and the loss of their jewels and ornaments was the least they expected. There was a dim lamp burning in a niche which partly revealed the scene, and the agitation of some thirty helpless women now huddling together on the ground, and imploring mercy. It was well that the entrance doors were guarded by the Meer Sahib's retainers, for the Beydurs would have had little scruple in tearing off all the women's ornaments as their spoil.

Meanwhile Osman Beg lay in his private chamber. He had sat in the audience hall as long as he could, but the strong European liqueur and its pleasant flavour had beguiled him, and at last he had rolled over in his seat insensible, and was carried by his slaves to his bed. Then it was that the music had ceased, the torches had been put out, and all, rolling themselves in their sheets, lay down where they were, like swathed corpses; and it was thus the Meer Sahib had found them. When the shot was fired from the high tower, the two servants who had remained by their master, conscious of some imminent alarm or danger, tried to arouse him, and even raised him up, but with a muttered curse he fell back again. In this condition—entering from the back passage—Burma Naik found him. As he entered the chamber, the Nawab's servants fled, and, conscious of a strange presence, Osman Beg tried to rise, but with a drunken hiccup fell back on his bed.

"It would be easy to end thy vile life, Osman Beg," said Burma to himself, "but I leave thee to the Lord. God forbid that my hand should slay one who cannot help himself. Look here, Sahib," he said, as the Governor entered the chamber; "there lies this disgrace to his faith and to his office; do as thou wilt with him, he is in thy hand."

"Let him lie, my friend, his fate is not in my hand; but he is helpless now. All I want are his papers, and the accounts and moneys of the fort; and these, especially the papers, must be found. Had he no servants?"

"My lord," said a man who emerged from a bathing room, "I am one; and if my life be spared will tell you all."

"Fear not," replied Burma Naik, "I know thee; and your new lord will not hurt any one who is faithful; but beware if thou attempt deceit."

"Well, then," replied the man, humbly, "the private papers are all in a leathern case on the floor under my master's head; he would allow them to be nowhere else. See, here it is;" and kneeling down, he drew a small leather travelling box from its hiding place. "The key of that box is round my master's neck, and the key of the treasury is tied to the string of his drawers; they can easily be removed; and the moonshee has the accounts. I have charge of all his valuables, and can give an account of them, or show them if it is ordered."

"We will have an inventory made of them before your master, and they will be sent with him to Beejapoor when the King's order comes. Meanwhile they will be under attachment," said the Governor. "I will leave thee with thy master, and some men of mine to guard him when he wakes."

"We have done all we can do at present, Burma Naik," said the Governor; "even to getting the papers, which can be examined presently. Meanwhile the day is breaking, should not we give the signal?"

"Certainly, my lord; I will see to it immediately. One of the fort gunners ought to be without, and," continued Burma Naik, "I have sent word to the authorities of the fort, those who have to recognise all new governors, and they also will be here before sunrise, or soon after it. Meanwhile this hall may be swept out, for everyone has departed. Ho! without, bring the Furashes, and let them lay down the cloths for a durbar."

While this was being effected, the heavy gun on the highest bastion was fired with a tremendous report, which rattled from side to side of the ravine in a thousand echoes, and at last died out among the hills far away.

"You do not know where you are, my lord, as yet," said Burma Naik; "come and see;" and he took the Governor down the steps of the verandah to another short flight that led to a small but elegant pavilion perched upon a rock, from whence the glen could be well seen in the daytime. Now, however, it seemed as though they looked into unfathomable darkness, and the effect was almost painful; but as the dawn rapidly advanced, the agitated river, the rocks, the rugged sides of the glen, and the cataract at its head, gradually grew into form, and the Governor stood gazing at them in a silence which partook of awe.