When we returned to the cart, my first business was to soothe my poor Zora, whose screams, added to those of the old attendant, and the oaths, execrations, and shouts of the contending parties, had made a din which defies description. I found her terribly alarmed, of course, but the rascals had not been suffered to approach her; and when she was assured by me that I should not again quit her side, she was calm, and gave me a history of the attack; which was, that as they were going along, the thieves began to pelt them with stones from the bushes on the sides of the road; and at last, perhaps not thinking them armed, rushed from their concealment, and the fight began.

The wounded thief was unable to walk, so he was put into the cart with the dead body: the boy's arms were tied behind his back, and a cord passed round his neck I tied to my own saddle. Leaving twenty men to guard the wounded, we then quickly proceeded. We arrived at a large village before the sun rose; but the villagers were up, and the herds of cattle were pouring out of the gates on their way to the pastures. We desired the men to take up the encampment under some tamarind trees, and my father, myself, and Bhudrinath went to the gates, and desired to see the Patail, or whoever might be the chief authority. After waiting a long time we were told that the Aumil expected us, and were ushered into his house, where he sat in a verandah, apparently used by him generally to transact business in. He was a Hindoo, a Khayet by caste, and, as those persons usually are, was polite and courteous in his manners. My father was spokesman on this occasion, and after introducing himself as a merchant, and us as leaders of the men who escorted him,—the old OomerkhÉr story,—he told him of the attack which had been made on us, of which, however, he seemed for a time to be perfectly incredulous.

"Impossible!" said he; "there has not been a highway robbery, or an attempt at one, for years, ever since some notorious thieves were caught and beheaded here; you must be under some mistake."

"You have not mentioned our wounded men, and that several of the thieves have been killed by us," said I to my father: "perhaps this worthy gentleman will believe us when he sees them, or finds the bodies of the rascals; and again, you forget that two of them are in our custody."

"Indeed!" cried the Aumil, that alters the case; "but the truth of the matter is, that so many travellers beg for escorts from village to village, and set forth their having been threatened between here and Nirmul, that I am become difficult to satisfy, or to be persuaded that any danger has existed."

"We require no escort," said my father; "we are strong enough to take care of ourselves, having, as you have heard, beaten off these thieves; all we want is a few men to bring up our wounded, and justice done on the rascals we have caught."

"It would be well for us," said Mohun Lall, "if all travellers were to defend themselves like you; we should have but few thieves in the country, for they would find theirs a losing trade. But I think you said you had one of them unhurt; where is he; we may perhaps get something out of him."

I sent for the lad, and he was questioned for some time about the gang, and where it was probable they had gone; but he would not answer a word, and the man who was interpreting for us gave up questioning him in despair. "He will not say a word in this manner," said Bhudrinath; "give him the lash. I dare say that will make him speak."

"True," said Mohun Lall; "I was going to send for a korla;" and he called to one of his men to bring one. The thief shuddered as he saw it, and was again asked if he would confess; but he remained silent.

"Throw him down," cried Mohun Lall, "and cut the skin from his back." In an instant he was thrown with his face to the ground, and the lash, wielded by a stout fellow, brought blood at almost every stroke: but in vain; he would not speak a word—not even a cry for mercy.

"This is of no use either," said one of the men who held him; "get a bag full of ashes. I'll warrant he speaks fast enough when that is put over his face." A leather bag, such as is used to give grain to horses, was filled with burning-hot ashes, and brought. It was tied over his mouth, and at the same time he received some hard thumps on his back to force him to breathe. This apparently had the desired effect; for after a short time, during which the torture must have been great, he muttered something, and the bag was withdrawn.

"You think to make me confess," said the rascal as soon as he could speak, "but it is in vain. I know well where my people are gone, and I curse the authors of their discomfiture;" and he poured a torrent of abuse on me. "Yes," continued he, pointing to me, "it was you who struck down my father, and as he is dead, I want no more than to die also; you may hang me as soon as you please."

"Ha," said Mohun Lall, "I had forgotten him; let him be brought."

I had left the fellow badly wounded, but did not think there was any danger of his life. When he arrived, however, carried on a bed, it was evident he was dying; he scarcely breathed, and the rattle was in his throat: we did not therefore trouble ourselves further about him, but endeavoured to make the son confess; the whip and hot ashes were both resorted to again without effect, and all our endeavours only produced fresh execrations and abuse.

"There is no bearing this any longer," cried Mohun Lall; "the fellow must be hanged. I know these rascals, and were we to keep him for a year we should never get a word of intelligence out of him, so there is no use in delay."

"As you will," said my father; "perhaps he will confess when the rope is round his neck."

"We shall see," replied Mohun Lall; "but I do not think it. Send for the Mangs." These wretches, everywhere the vilest of mankind, were soon present, and the thief was made over to them.

"You see," said Mohun Lall to him, "you have no chance of escape; will you now confess and take service with me? I will protect you." The fellow hesitated, looked at his father, and appeared irresolute; but a second glance at his expiring parent again rallied him.

"Not for all the wealth you could give me," cried he, drawing himself up and looking at us proudly. "Had he been alive, and in your power, I might have taken your service; but you could not protect me now, and I would rather die by the hands of your people than by those of my associates, from whom I could not escape."

"Away with him!" cried Mohun Lall to the Mangs; "see that you do your work properly."

"And our mamool (customary present), Maharaj, you must not forgot that."

"No, no," cried he; "but away with ye; I am polluted by your presence; go to the Kotwal after you have done, and he will have received orders to give you a sheep and as much liquor as will make you all drunk."

The fellows made many most profound salams, and went off with their wretched companion. "Where will they hang him?" said I; "I should like to see him again, and try if I can't persuade him to live to become a decent fellow."

"Somewhere beyond the gate," said Mohun Lall: "I do not know the place myself, but my people will show you. You will do little good, however, I am afraid; and after all, why should you trouble yourself about him?"

"It is no trouble," I replied; "I have simply a curiosity upon the subject, and will see the last of him."

"I will accompany you," said Bhudrinath; and we took our leave and followed the executioners. About an arrow's flight from the gate were two scraggy, gnarled, and almost leafless neem-trees, beneath which stood the group we sought, and round them all the urchins and idle men of the village. We hastened up to them, and found that everything was prepared: a rope with a noose in it hung over a branch, and one of the Mangs was coolly sharpening a knife upon an old stone idol, which lay beneath the tree—for what purpose I could not make out; however, my business was not with them, but with the wretch who was so near his death. He had seen us approach, and I thought was urging the Mangs to despatch him before we came up; but they did not do so, as they imagined we brought some other orders to them. I addressed myself to the robber: "Will you not live?" said I; "so young as you are, have you no love of life? I now again promise you protection if you will confess, as you have been asked to do before."

"Let the cords be somewhat loosened which bind my arms," said the robber, "and I will speak to you; at present, I am in too much pain to talk."

"Loosen them," said I to the Mangs; "and one of you hold the rope in case he attempts to escape."

The robber smiled faintly at what I said, and continued:—"You have taken an interest in me, and although I owe my present condition to you, yet sooner or later I should have come to the same end, or fallen by some shot, or cut of a sword; therefore I forgive you my death. But, again I repeat, I have no wish to live; nor, miserable as I am, can you suppose I would purchase my life by an act of treachery to my companions. Had my father lived, and remained in Mohun Lall's power, I would have promised anything; but he is dead: my uncle, too, fell by the hands of one of your men in the attack on your cart; and whom have I left in this world to care for, that I should live? One day has seen the end of my family; and it was our fate. Yet bear to Mohun Lall my hate, and the curses of a dying man. It is he who has killed me, and for this he will have to pay a fearful retribution. And now," said he, turning to the Mangs, "do your horrible office; I have no more to say."

I was going to speak again, but Bhudrinath stopped me. "What is the use?" said he; "the fellow is obstinate, and, depend upon it, if he were spared, it would only be to lead good men into danger, if not into destruction: let him die, he deserves it."

The Mangs looked to me for orders, and I told them to proceed; it was clearly of no use to delay. The robber was again tightly pinioned and thrown on the ground, and the Mang who held the knife he had been sharpening, dexterously cut both sinews of his legs close above the heel; he was then raised up, the noose put round his neck, and in another instant he was pulled up to the branch, and struggling in his death agony. "Pah!" said Bhudrinath, turning away, "it makes me sick; what a contrast this is to our work, where he who is to die scarcely knows that the handkerchief is about his neck before he is a dead man."

"You say truly," said I; "we have the advantage; but these Mangs are miserable, outcast wretches. What else could you expect from them? Now let us go to the camp; my father will be there, and we will see what this Kumal Khan had with him." When we arrived, we found that all his baggage had been examined. There were two boxes, the contents of which we looked to see with some impatience. One was nearly filled with papers relating to his business as a revenue-collector, and these were burned as fast as they could be looked over by me. In the bottom, however, was a bag filled with gold, which Bhudrinath held up in triumph.

"This is something better than musty paper," said he, putting it on one side; "now for the other box."

It was broken open, and proved a rich prize, indeed. After the clothes with which the top was covered had been removed, a number of bars of silver met our expecting eyes. The box was not, however, emptied, and under another layer of clothes were ten bars of gold, of the same size as the silver ones.

"Here is the cream of the matter," cried Bhudrinath, as he took up the first; "Alla knows how much there is! but it is clear the man was worth killing; and finely, indeed, must he have plundered the unfortunate cultivators."

The bars of gold and silver were made over to my father, to be placed among the other plunder we had got; and all that now remained to be seen were the clothes he had worn and his waist-bag. There was not, however, much in it. "Stay," said Bhudrinath, "here is another bundle, which was in the humeanah."

I took it from him, and unrolled fold after fold of clean paper. "Why, there is nothing here," said I; "I suppose he kept this to write on."

"Go on to the end, nevertheless," said my father; "let us see all."

After removing three more folds I came to another small packet, which was tied up with thread. "Here is something at last," said I, breaking it open: "bills of exchange, in the name of the blessed Prophet! and, I doubt not, of value, too. Have we any one who can make them out?"

"I cannot read the writing," said Bhudrinath, "but I can make out the figures if they are not written in Persian."

"Ah, no," said I, "they are Nagree or Guzerattee; so try your skill."

"This," said Bhudrinath, after examining one, "is for two thousand rupees: see, these are the figures."

"I dare say you are right," said I, handing the rest to him; "what are these for?"

"Here is a second for four hundred."

"Not much," said my father; "but go on."

"The third is for—let me see again," said Bhudrinath; "ah, I am right, it is for two thousand two hundred; and the last is for two hundred and forty."

"That is, let me see," said I, "four thousand eight hundred and forty. Well, we have got a good prize."

"Yes!" cried my father, "we should be well off if they were worth anything to us; but they are no better than the waste paper we have burned."

"How?" said I; "we should get the money if we presented them, surely?"

"You do not reflect," said my father, "that if we did so, it would lead to our detection in this matter: so destroy them."

"Indeed," said I, "I will not, but will keep them for stolen money; and I dare say were we to affect to be this Kumal Khan's agents, we might get the amount."

"As you will," said my father; "but remember you take no steps about them without consulting me." So I kept them, and had afterwards reason to be glad that I had done so.