From that hour I made a determination to destroy him. No sooner had I reached the camp than I assembled all my Thugs, and laid before them a scheme I had long been revolving in my mind. I spoke to them as follows: "You have seen, my brethren, that Ghuffoor Khan is a devil; such a person can hardly be called a man: bad as these Pindharees are, he is the worst among them, and is unfit to live. You, Motee and Peer Khan, remember the fate of the Brahmin girl at Karinjah; you may remember my ill-suppressed indignation, which then almost impelled me to destroy this fiend; and I would have done it, but that I felt his fate was not in my hands. I felt that Alla would sooner or later urge me on to be the humble means of a retributive justice overtaking him. I have hitherto refrained, though I have sometimes fancied his hour was come. I thought that some crime blacker than any previous one would at last be committed by him, and it has been done. You all saw what it was. Can he ever do worse?"

"He cannot!" cried my men with one voice; "he has reached the mark, and he is ours."

"He shall be so," said I: "now listen. You know I have still three bottles of the sweet wine of the Feringhees, which I brought with me from Guntoor; he is very fond of it, and will easily be persuaded to come here and drink it with us; I will dose his share with opium, and after a few cups, he will become stupified, and will fall an easy prey to us."

"Good!" cried Peer Khan, "it is an excellent plan. What say you to putting it into execution this very night?"

"Not to-night," I said; "we must be cautious in this immense camp. To-morrow let my tent be pitched on the utmost verge of it; nay, a short distance beyond it,—and in the dead of the night, when all are overpowered by sleep, he can be despatched."

"I beg to represent," said Peer Khan, "that Ghuffoor Khan's saddle is well lined; could we not get possession of it?"

"I have been thinking about it," replied I, "but I do not see how we are to get it without much risk and fear of discovery."

Peer Khan pondered for a moment; he then said, "I have a plan, Jemadar, which you may perhaps be able to improve upon; and, Inshalla! we will have the saddle. What I say is this: when the Khan is pretty well intoxicated, do you propose to him to sleep in your tent, and to send for his horse and saddle, so as to be near him to mount in the morning. If the saddle is brought, we can empty it of its contents and bury it with him; if not, we can only rejoice at having done a good action in having destroyed him."

"I am not sure," observed Motee, "that the omens will be good; we had better try them."

"Do so," said I; "I will think over Peer Khan's plan and see what can be done." We then separated for the night.

During the next morning's travel, when we were not separated by the confusion which ensued on a village or town being plundered, I purposely threw myself as much in Ghuffoor Khan's way as I could, and we conversed on the success of our expedition, and the adventures which had befallen us.

"Do you remember, Khan Sahib," said I, "the attack on the houses at Guntoor, and how we ravaged the Feringhees' store-houses in a vain search for valuables? my curses on them! They are as rich as Nuwabs, and yet not one of them has a gold or silver dish in his possession, nor a jewel or valuable of any kind,—nothing but china-ware. And do you remember how we smashed it all?"

"Ay, I remember," growled the Khan; "and but for our chief's cowardice,—between you and me I say it,—we might have attacked and carried the place where the treasure was, and enriched ourselves not a little; whereas, as it was, we got nothing for our trouble. We destroyed their houses, however, and that was some satisfaction."

"True," said I, "it was, Khan; how their hearts must have burned as they saw the bright flames devouring their abodes! Do you remember too the precious stuff I got hold of and recommended to your notice,—the wine in the small bottles, with printed papers upon them? It was rare good stuff."

"Mashalla! it was, indeed," cried the Khan; "the flavour of it did not leave my lips for some days. These infidels know what good wine is, that is certain. Would that I had brought some with me! a few bottles would have been easily carried, and one would have enjoyed it after a day's toil."

"I was more careful than you were, Khan; such wine is not always to be got; I brought away some bottles, and I have them still, I believe, if they be not broken."

"Some with you? Nay, then, be not niggardly of your treasure; let me taste it again, for I swear to you I believe there will be no such nectar in Paradise."

"It is at your service, Khan; but to escape scandal, what do you say to coming to my tent to-night when it is dusk?—that is, if any remains, of which I will give you notice. One of my fellows shall cook a good pilao, and after it we will enjoy the wine quietly."

"Your words are as sweet as the wine itself, good Meer Sahib; truly I will be with thee. I will tell my Saees to bring my horse and picket him among yours; no one will see me, and I will bring no one with me. I might exceed, you know, and I would not be an open scandal to the faith."

My heart leaped to my mouth as he uttered the words. The saddle, then, would be ours, without any trouble or risk of detection: how I blessed him for acceding so readily to my plans! "True, Khan," said I, "it will not do to be observed: we must be secret. I will have no one in my tent but Peer Khan, whom you know; he is my foster-brother, and a rare companion: we will have a pleasant carouse, I will send him to you when the pilao is ready."

"No, no," cried he, "do not—there is no need of it; I will stroll to your tent after dusk. And, hark ye!" said he to his Saees, who was trotting after him, "mind, you are to bring my horse and saddle to the Meer Sahib's tent, as soon as you see me going towards it. Remember, you are to lead it after me, as though I were going to ride; and when you arrive there, you are to picket it among his horses."

"Jo hookum," replied the fellow; "your orders shall be obeyed."

"And mind," continued the Khan, "you are not to tell any one where I am going, nor to answer any questions, if any are put to you, as you lead the horse along."

"Certainly not; since such is my lord's pleasure, I dare not disobey."

"You had better not," cried the Khan, "or I will try and find a korla for you."

The fellow dropped behind again, and we resumed our desultory conversation, chatting as we rode along on the merits of the different leaders, and how they had behaved. Ghuffoor Khan was a pleasant companion, and his remarks were full of wit and satire. I had put him in good humour by the prospect of a deep carouse, and we rode on cheerfully.

We reached our halting-place for the day, after a long and intensely hot march; and glad were we to get under the cover of our tents, to screen ourselves from the noonday heat. I had several messages from the Khan, in the course of the day, to know whether the repast was ready; but it would not have answered my purpose to have allowed that it was, or to have had it prepared one moment before the time fixed.

"You have been riding with the Khan, Sahib, all the morning," said Motee to me, "and have not, I suppose, observed the omens?"

"I have not," said I, anxiously; "but surely you have done so?" For I knew how much they would influence my men; nay, that without favourable ones they would have absolutely refused any participation in the matter.

"I have not been negligent," replied Motee. "Last night, after I parted with you, Peer Khan, myself, and the others, made an offering of goor to the Nishan, and, blessed be Bhowanee, she has vouchsafed us the Thibao and Pilhao; you need, therefore, be under no apprehensions, for she is favourable."

"I was sure she would be, Motee, for I observe the hand of Alla guiding me; and I verily believe I should have followed the influence of my own desires in this matter, even had they been unfavourable."

"Nay, say not so, Jemadar," said he laughing—"you are too good a Thug for that; but there is now no fear, for the omens were indeed cheering."

"If we succeed," said I, "I have some thoughts of further work in our own way; but, of this more hereafter. There will be a stir when his disappearance is known, and we must be quiet for a time."

"Ay, that is like you, Jemadar. We have been consulting among ourselves, and had come to the determination of proposing some adventures to you; for here these dogs of Pindharees lie, night after night, and each fellow is worth some hundreds of rupees. Yet we have been content to remain inactive; and I, for one, say shame on us! We need not pass a night without some work."

"Wait, good Motee; let us secure the Khan first. And now to arrange matters; we must be our own Lughaees."

"For that we are prepared, Meer Sahib; a Thug must do his duty in any grade when occasion calls for his services. We are all ready for work."

"Then we must lose no time; you must join your own pall to mine, and put some screen or other between them; in the empty space the grave must be prepared. It had better be ready before he comes:—but no; he will, perhaps, suspect us; it can soon be made afterwards."

"You are right, Jemadar, he would suspect: he need not be buried deep; and there are three of our men who are old Lughaees; they will prepare it in a few minutes."

"And his Saees—he must die also, Motee."

"Certainly," he replied. "Do you and Peer Khan deal with the Khan, and leave the Saees to us—we will manage him."

"Good; our arrangements are then complete. Remember that Peer Khan alone eats with us; you must be all outside, and see that the horses are kept saddled; for we must fly instantly if we are discovered or suspected. I have no fears, however, on either score."

"Nor have I," said Motee; "the matter will create a stir, as he is a leader of note; but it will be supposed, either that he has gone off with his plunder, or that some one has murdered him. I tell you, Meer Sahib, that many a Pindharee has died by the hand of his fellow since we left Nemawur."

"I do not doubt it, Motee. I have heard of many brawls, and men of this kind have but few scruples. They are a wicked set, and far worse than those who formed the first expedition. But now go, get the pall ready, and send Peer Khan to me."

The evening came; the calls of the faithful to evening prayers resounded through the camp with the last red streak of day. Men were assembled in knots, kneeling on their carpets, addressing their prayers to Alla,—men whose hands were scarcely cleansed from the blood they had that day shed! The ceremony over, each separated from his fellow, to lie beside his faithful horse, and to enjoy a night of repose, to fit him for the toil, the rapine, and plunder, of the ensuing day. The time approached; and as I sat in my tent, awaiting the Khan's arrival, my heart exulted within me, that for once in my life I should do a good action, in revenging the murdered. Peer Khan was with me; we scarcely spoke—our minds were too full of what was to follow to speak much.

"Have you drugged the bottle?" he asked.

"I have. I have put two tolas of opium into it; I have tasted it, and the flavour of the drug is perceptible—but it will be the second bottle, and he will not discover it; and if he does, we cannot help it, we must take our chance. Do you think we can manage him between us, without any noise?"

"Shame on us if we do not, Meer Sahib; I am as strong a man as he is, and your roomal never fails. But to prevent any noise being heard, suppose we propose to admit Motee and two or three others to sing and play,—I mean when the Khan has swallowed his first bottle. Motee has a sitar and a small drum with him, and its noise will drown all others."

"No, no!" said I; "others might be attracted by the singing, and come to hear it; it will not do; we must do our best and leave the rest to Alla. However we will see when the time comes."

The evening was far advanced, and everything around us was quiet. A few fires here and there throughout the camp marked where, at each, a solitary Pindharee cooked his last meal of the day; the rest were already buried in profound slumber, and all nearest to us were still. I stood at the door of my humble tent looking anxiously for the Khan's coming; and at length I observed a figure stealing along in the dusk, carefully avoiding the prostrate forms which lay in his path. Was it the Khan? Yes. "By Alla, he comes!" said I to Peer Khan; "I see him now: and there is his horse behind him, and the Saees leading it."

"Shookur Khoda!" exclaimed my companion; "he has not deceived us. I feared he had, since it is so late."

"Is that you, Meer Sahib?" cried the voice of Ghuffoor Khan. "I feared I should have missed your tent in this cursed darkness."

"Here am I, Khan, and you are welcome to the poor tent of your servant."

"So you have found the wine, eh?" said the Khan, rubbing his hands in glee. "You have not cheated me?"

"By your soul, no! Khan, I have not; there it is, you see, and Peer Khan is gone for the pilao."

"Khoob; by Alla! Meer Sahib, I have fasted all day on purpose to do justice to it; and I should have been here an hour sooner, but I was summoned to the durbar about some trifle or other; and I have kept you waiting."

"And your horse, Khan?"

"Oh, he is here; my Saees has picketed him among yours. I have deceived my other servants—I swore I had a headache and could not eat, and pretended to lie down to sleep, having given them all strict orders not to disturb me. The knaves knew better than to do so; and so, after lying quiet awhile, I stole out of my tent behind, and have fairly given them the slip. I suppose your people can throw some fodder before the animal?"

"Surely; I have cared for that already."

Peer Khan now entered with the pilao; and seating ourselves, our fingers were soon buried in the midst of it.

"Now for the wine, Meer Sahib; the pilao is dry without it, and my throat lacks moisture."

"Here it is," said I, pouring it out into a cup; "see how it sparkles, like the fire of a ruby."

"Ay," said the Khan, after he had drained it to the bottom, "this is wine for the hooris; how one enjoys it! Think, Meer Sahib, how we true believers will quaff in Paradise (if what we get there will be as good), surrounded by twenty hooris, and each vying with the other to please us! But drink, man,—I would not take the whole."

"Nay, that bottle is your own share, Khan, and there is besides another for you; Peer Khan and I will divide this one between us. 'Tis a pity there is not more, or that the bottles were not larger."

"Ay, it is to be regretted certainly, Meer Sahib, but what there is, we must make the most of;" and he took another draught. "Only think," continued he, "of those infidels the Feringhees drinking such stuff as this every day. I now scarcely marvel at their doing great deeds when they are drunk. And is it not the case, Meer Sahib, that they all sit round a table and drink, and roar out songs, till they fall down intoxicated?"

"So I have been credibly informed, Khan. By Alla! they are jolly dogs."

"I wish I was in their service," said Ghuffoor Khan, after a short silence. "Do you think they would give one wine to drink when one wanted it?"

"I have not a doubt of it," I replied.

"Then I will take employ with them, Meer Sahib; this stuff would tempt many a better Moosulman than I am to serve an infidel. But they say Sikundar Jah drinks it also."

"So I heard when I was at Hyderabad," said I; "indeed it was there I first tasted this liquor; and I knew the bottles again when I saw them in the Feringhees' houses at Guntoor."

"It is fit drink for a prince," sighed the Khan, when he had finished the bottle, and looking at it with a most rueful countenance. "That is finished, Meer Sahib; thou saidst thou hadst another?"

"Ay, Khan! but only this one," I replied, handing him the other.

"I feel happy now, Meer Sahib. By Alla! I could sing—I could dance, I think, though it would be a scandal to do so. The Prophet, however, has not forbidden a Moslem to sing. May his name be honoured! Have any of you a sitar? People say that I have a good hand."

"Go and fetch Motee-ram's," said I to Peer Khan; "it is a good one. Shall the owner of it come also, Khan?"

"Nay, I care not, Meer Sahib; though the devil came, I would pluck him by the beard; let him come. Can he sing?"

"Like a bulbul, Khan; I have rarely heard a better voice from a man."

"Oh, for some women!" sighed the Khan; "one misses the glances of their antelope eyes, and the tinkle of their anklets in moments like these. Ah, Meer Sahib, we were happy dogs when we were encamped in the Krishna. There was one charmer—but why speak of them, Meer Sahib—why speak of them?"

"We shall enjoy their company the more when we get to Nemawur," said I. "But here is Motee with his sitar." Motee made his salam and sat down.

"Is the instrument tuned, Motee—thou pearl of singers?" cried the Khan, bursting into a laugh at his play upon Motee's name. "Hast thou tuned it?"

"I have, noble Khan; though it is not worthy the touch of so exalted a person."

"Nay, 'tis a good sitar, and a sweet one," said the Khan, as he ran his fingers over the strings in a manner which showed him to be a proficient.

"Wah!" cried all of us at once; "play, noble Khan! the hand which could execute such a prelude as that can do wonders."

"Give me some more drink," cried he, "and I will try. Knowest thou any ghuzuls, Motee?"

"I am indifferently skilled in them, Khan Sahib; nevertheless, if my lord will mention one, I will try. The tuppas of my own country I know most of."

"Pah!" cried the Khan, "who would sing tuppas? I will name a ghuzul which is in every one's mouth—sing 'Mahi-Alum, Soz-i-mun;' I warrant me thou knowest it. But the wine, Meer Sahib, pour it out for me; thou art my Saqi, thou knowest. I will sing an ode to thee, as Hafiz has written and sung many a one to his; peace be to his memory! Ah! that was good; but oh, Meer Sahib, it hath a different flavour from the last."

"Very likely," said I; "the bottle, you see, hath a different paper on it; perhaps it is a better kind."

"It is good, and that is all I care for, Meer Sahib. Now proceed, good Motee." Motee did as he was ordered, and his voice and the Khan's accompaniment were worthy of a better audience than that which heard them.

"Wah, wah! Shabash!" cried Peer Khan and I, when it was ended; "this is rare fortune to hear two such skilful musicians in this unsainted jungle. Now it is your turn, Khan Sahib."

"More wine, Meer Sahib, 'Saqi mera!' more wine, for the sake of the Twelve Imams. Oh that there were a thousand bottles, that we could meet as we have done now every night! Good wine and good companions—have they not been ever the burthen of the songs of the poets?"

"Is there much left?" he continued, when he had drained the cup.

"About half the bottle," said I.

"Then give Motee a cup, Meer Sahib: he deserves it."

"Excuse me," said Motee, "but I am a Hindoo and a Brahmin."

"Thou shouldst have been a true believer, Motee; Khan would sound as well after thy name as Ram. Why, man, our blessed Prophet would have had thee to sing to him when thou hadst reached Paradise!"

Ghuffoor Khan's voice was now rather thick, and he made but a poor hand of the ghuzul he attempted; but it was very laughable to see him roll his eyes from side to side, like a dancing-girl, and to hear him trying to imitate their quavers and shakes. "Pah!" cried he, when he had sung a verse, "my throat is dry; I want more wine, I think, Meer Sahib; but the truth is, I caught a cold some days ago, and am still hoarse."

He tried again, after a fresh draught, but with no better success. In vain he coughed and hemmed to clear his throat; the wine, and the still better opium, were doing their work as quickly as we could desire.

"Do you sing again, Motee,—meree Motee! meree Goweya!" said the Khan insinuatingly. "A curse on the water of this country, which spoils a man's singing. Sing, man, and I will play; it cannot spoil that, at any rate; and the Meer Sahib hath provided an antidote for this night at least."

Motee sang again; but the accompaniment was wild and irregular, and the Khan at last threw down the sitar.

"It will not do, Meer Sahib, after the fatigue (a hiccup) and the trouble I have had (hiccup) all day, shouting and bullying these rascally Pindharees (hiccup). How can it be expected, Meer Sahib, that I, Ghuffoor Khan, the leader of three thousand horse, should play and sing like a Goweya? By Alla! I will not (hiccup). But these hiccups, Meer Sahib, what is to cure them?"

"Some more wine, Khan Sahib; nothing but liquor can cure them. And there is more; there is still another cup."

"Then give me all!" cried the Khan; "I will drink it standing like a kafir Feringhee—may their sisters be defiled, ay, and their mothers too! Nevertheless, as I said, I will serve them and drink among them, and none shall drink more than Ghuffoor Khan. Thou saidst they drink standing; and what do they say?"

"Hip, hip, hip!" said I; "I learned the words from a vagabond who had been a Khidmutgar among them, and had seen their wild orgies."

"What, hip, hip, hip! those are the words, eh? I wonder what they mean."

"They are an invocation to their Prophet, I believe," said I, "much as we say 'Bismilla ir ruhman ir ruheem!'"

"I do not doubt it, Meer Sahib. Now help me to rise, for the stuff is in my brain, and the tent goeth round about; help me to rise, I say, and I will quaff the last drop, both as a true Moslem and as a Feringhee. Ha! said I, not well?"

"Excellently well, great Khan," said I, as I helped him to his feet. "Now, here is the wine."

"Bismilla!" shouted the Khan, "hip, hip, hip!" and he drained the cup to the bottom; his head sunk on his breast, his eyes rolled wildly; he made a desperate attempt to rush forward, and fell at his full length upon the ground.

"Bus!" cried Peer Khan, as he got out of the way; "enough, great Khan! noble Khan, thou art a dead man now. Feringhee and Moslem, thou hast made rare fun for us."

"Raise him up," said I to them; "seat him on his end. I am ready; and do one of ye give the jhirnee."

They raised him up; and, as he was seated, his head again sunk on his shoulder, and some froth came from his mouth.

"He is dying," said Motee. "We ought not to touch him; it is forbidden."

"Not a bit of it," said I; "all drunken men are in this way; I have seen hundreds in the same state; so hold his head up, and give the jhirnee;" for I had taken my post behind him.

They did so. Peer Khan uttered the fatal words, and Ghuffoor Khan wrestled out his last agony under my never-failing gripe.

"Enough, Meer Sahib," said Peer Khan, who was holding his feet—"enough, he is dead."

"Ul-humd-ul-illa!" I exclaimed; "it is finished, blessed be the Prophet and Bhowanee! Go for the Lughaees; he must be put under ground immediately. Now for the Saees."

We left the Khan's body, and went out; the others were waiting for us. "Where does he lie?" I asked.

"There," said one of the men; "he is fast asleep, and has been so for an hour."

"So much the better," said Peer Khan; "leave him to me."

I watched him and Motee as they approached the sleeper. Peer Khan touched him with his foot: he started up to a sitting position, and rubbed his eyes; but Peer Khan threw himself upon him, and he was dead in an instant, ere he had become conscious. Nothing now remained but the disposal of the bodies and the saddle. The grave, a shallow one, was quickly dug; and while the Lughaees were preparing it, myself, Peer Khan and Motee unripped the lining and pockets of the saddle, and took out the gold. There was naught else. It was in coin, and in small lumps, as the jewels he had gotten in plunders had been melted down from time to time. We had no leisure then to speculate on its value; but we cut the saddle to pieces with our knives, to make sure that none remained in it; and the fragments were buried with the bodies.

"What shall we do with the horse, Meer Sahib?" asked Motee. "We cannot take him with us, for there is not a man in the camp who does not know Ghuffoor Khan's horse; and we have no time to stain him."

I was puzzled for a while; to have retained the noble animal would have ensured our detection, and I scarcely knew what to do. At last I hit upon an expedient. "He must be destroyed," said I; "'tis a splendid beast, certainly, yet our lives are worth more than his. Beyond the camp, about an arrow's flight, is a deep ravine. Do any of you know it?"

"None of us have seen it," said all at once.

"Then I must go myself, and do you, Ghous Khan (he was one of my men), accompany me; we will throw him into it. Go and loosen him from his pickets."

I followed him, and we conducted the animal to the edge of the ravine; it was deep, and just suited our purpose, as the banks were precipitous. "That will do," said I, when he had brought the horse to the edge; "now rein his head to one side; we must kill him before he falls in."

He did so; I had prepared my sword, and drew it sharply across the poor brute's throat; the blood gushed out, he reeled backwards, fell into the dark ravine, and we heard his carcase reach the bottom with a heavy fall. I looked over, but all I saw was an indistinct mass at the bottom, while a few groans of its death-agony reached my ears.

"Enough," said I; "come away; the jackals will have a glorious feast ere morning, and no one will ever think of looking here. But it was a pity to kill the brute."

"He was worth a good thousand rupees, and would have fetched that price at Hyderabad. Why did you not send him there? I would have taken him."

"I did not think of that," said I; "but no matter now; we will earn more than that before we reach Nemawur."

"How, Meer Sahib? We get but little in this poor country."

"Trust me, Ghous Khan," said I; "we have begun, and, Inshalla! we will go on with the work." I reached the tent, and the Lughaees had done their business well; our carpets had been spread over the spot where the Khan lay in his last resting-place, and we all lay down and slept soundly.

Ghuffoor Khan was missed at his accustomed post the next morning; a thousand conjectures were hazarded as to his fate, but no one could account for his disappearance. Some said the devil had taken him for his wickedness; others, that he had amassed an immense plunder, and was fearful of its being wrested from him, and he had therefore escaped with it, as it was known to be sewed up in his saddle. When we reached our next encampment, Cheetoo sent for me. I went, and found him seated in full durbar, and the Khan's servants as prisoners before him. I made my usual salam, and he requested me to be seated near him.

"This is a most mysterious affair, Meer Sahib," said he; "Ghuffoor Khan is gone; and Alla or the Shitan only knows whither! If he has fled, it is as extraordinary a thing as I ever heard of; for he has been attached to me from his youth, and I have ever been kind to him. What think you?"

"I am at a loss also," said I; "your servant knows not what to say; there are a thousand conjectures afloat, but no one can give any probable solution to the mystery. But have you examined the servants? Surely they must know something."

"I have not, Meer Sahib, as yet; but here they are, and I want you to help me to question them. You may think of some things which may escape me."

"I will do my best, Nuwab; but you had better begin—they will be afraid of you and speak the truth."

"Call one of them," said Cheetoo to an attendant.

The man came, trembling in every joint, and prostrated himself before our leader. "What is thy name?" he asked.

"Syud Ebrahim," said the fellow.

"And what service didst thou perform to Ghuffoor Khan?"

"I am a Khidmutgar, O Asylum of the World!" said the man; "I used to keep the Khan's clothes, assist him to bathe, and attend him at night. I was always about his person."

"Now speak the truth, Ebrahim, and fear not. But I swear by the beard of the Prophet, if I detect thee lying, I will have thee cut to pieces before my face, as a warning to thy comrades."

"May I be your sacrifice!" cried the man, "I will not lie. Why should I? What I know is easily told, and 'tis but little."

"Proceed," cried Cheetoo, "and remember what I have said."

"Alla is my witness," said the man, "I know but little. My noble master came from your highness's durbar late in the afternoon. We had prepared dinner for him, but he said he was ill, and would not eat, and that we ourselves might eat what we had cooked for him. He then went into his tent, took off his durbar dress, put away his arms, and then lay down. I was with him till this time, and sat down to shampoo him, but he bade me begone, and I left him. I was weary with running all day by his side, and I also lay down, and did not wake till the people roused me for the march. I went into the tent to arouse him and give him his clothes, but I found him not. The bedding was just as when he had lain down, but his sword was not there, nor a stick he always walked with. This is all I know, but Shekh Qadir knows something more, if you will call him; he saw the Khan after I did."

Shekh Qadir was accordingly sent for, and after being cautioned and threatened as the other had been, he spoke as follows:

"I am also a Khidmutgar, but my office was not about the Khan's person; I used to give him his hooka, and prepare the opium he ate. Soon after dusk I heard him moving in the tent, and I watched him; he lifted up the back part of it and came out. I saw him walk towards the middle of the camp, and followed him; he observed me, and turned round sharp upon me: 'What,' said he, 'cannot I walk out for a few yards, to breathe the air, without some of you rascals following me? Begone!' Nuwab, I was frightened lest he should order me the korla, and I went away to the tent of a friend. I heard in the morning that he had not returned."

"This is very unsatisfactory," said I; "we have as yet no clue to his disappearance. If he has gone away, he must have ridden; where is his horse?"

"Ay, where is it?" cried Cheetoo. "Who can tell us?"

"May I be your sacrifice!" said Shekh Qadir; "the horse is not here, nor his Saees. The Khan had two horses, but the saddle of the one missing is that in which all the gold was sewed up."

"Ha!" said Cheetoo, "is it so? Where is the other Saees?"

"Peer-o-Moorshid?" cried an attendant; "he is waiting without."

"Let him too be called." The man entered.

"What knowest thou?" asked Cheetoo.

"I only know," said the fellow, "that the gray horse was kept saddled all the afternoon: this was contrary to custom, for its saddle was always placed in the tent, near the Khan's head when he slept. I asked my fellow Saees the reason of its being so; but he was angry with me, and said it was no business of mine, that the Khan had ordered it, and it was his pleasure. I saw him take the horse from his picket after dark, but I asked no questions."

"There remains but one conclusion to be drawn, Nuwab Sahib," said I. "Ghuffoor Khan has fled, and made off with the booty he had got. By all accounts he had been very fortunate; and every one said his saddle was stuffed with gold."

"So I have also heard," said Cheetoo; "but yet it is hard to think of that man's ingratitude. Here have I been associated with him from boyhood: I have raised him from obscurity to be a leader of three thousand horse; and this has been a scurvy ending to my kindness. Go," said he to the servants, "I find no fault with any of you; take the horse to my pagah, and let him be tied up among my own."

Thus ended this adventure; no suspicion fell upon us nor on any one. The Khan was known to have friends at Hyderabad, and thither it was supposed he had fled. We alone knew his fate, and it was one he had deserved by a thousand crimes too horrible to mention.

But after this we were not idle; having begun our work, we had constant employment; scarcely a night passed that one or two Pindharees did not fall by our hands. They were missed too, as the Khan had been, but we were favoured by the constant desertions which took place from the Lubhur; for as we approached Nemawur, men daily made off in every direction to their houses, little relishing the fatigues of the camp and the constant alarms we had from reports of the vicinity of the Feringhee troops, by whom we were several times nearly surprised. Yet I was not fated to have the uniform success which had hitherto attended me. Treachery was at work, and the blow we least feared fell with a heavy hand at last, and dispersed us. I will tell you how it happened, and what befel us.