As at the banian tree, when Lukshmun was guide, and the Lalla had ridden up the rising ground, the sun had shone out brightly with a broad gleam through its giant trunks and branches, and over the villages and corn-fields beyond; so about the same time the light, glittering through the watery particles which filled the air, spread over a rich landscape, as viewed from a height above the pretty village of Itga, whence, by a rough stony path, a company of horsemen were now proceeding to the village itself.

There might have been twenty-five to thirty men, from the youth yet unbearded to the grizzled trooper, whose swarthy sunburnt face, and large whiskers and moustaches touched with grey, wiry frame, and easy lounging seat on his saddle—as he balanced his heavy Mahratta spear across his shoulders—showed the years of service he had done. There was no richness of costume among the party; on the contrary, the dresses were worn and weather-stained, and of a motley character. Some wore thickly quilted white or chintz doublets, strong enough to turn a sword-cut; or ordinary white cotton clothes, with back and breast pieces of thick padded cloth, or light shirts of chain-mail, with a piece of the same, or twisted wire, folded into their turbans; and a few wore steel morions, with turbans tied round them, and steel gauntlets which reached to the elbows, inlaid with gold and silver in delicate arabesque patterns.

The caparisons of their horses were as shabby as the dresses; but some had once been handsome, with embroidered reins and cruppers, and gay muslin martingals. All were now, however, soiled by the wet and mud of the day. It was clear that this party had ridden far, and the horses, though excellent and in high condition, were, from their drooping crests and sluggish action, evidently weary. Four of the men had been wounded in some skirmish, for it was with difficulty they sat their horses: and the bandages about them, covered with blood, showed the wounds to have been severe. But the sight of the village appeared to have revived the party; the horses were neighing and tossing their heads, and the men, shifting their places in the saddles, pointed eagerly to it, or, brandishing their spears, shouted one to another, cheering up the wounded men.

Among these horsemen, as also over the valley below, the sun's gleams shone brightly, casting long irregular shadows over the ground as they moved, and, glinting from spear-head, morion, and steel armour as the men swayed in their saddles, lighted up faces of varied character, all now joyous, but wearing an expression of habitual recklessness and lawless excitement.

Below them, at less than half a mile's distance, was the village itself. In the centre of it, or rather more to the right hand, was a high square castle, with round bastions at the corners, having loopholed parapets, which, where it had not been wetted by the rain, was of a warm grey, the colour of the mud or clay of which it had been built. It was in perfect repair, and the close smooth plastering of the walls and parapets showed that the weather was not allowed to injure it.

Inside the castle walls were the white terraced roofs of a dwelling-house, and in the bastions in the east and north corners several windows and other perforations in the curtain walls, which showed that rooms were connected with them; but it was clear, from the height of the parapets above the ground, which might be sixty feet, that most of the inside must be a solid mass of earth, as indeed it was as far as the courtyard, around which were the houses already noticed. On one high bastion, in which several small cannon were placed, was a flagstaff, and a large white flag, bordered with green, which floated out lazily upon the evening breeze, showing the device—a figure cut out in red cloth and sewn upon the white—of the monkey god HunoomÁn, who might be supposed to be, as he was, the tutelary divinity of the castle.

To protect the gateway there was a double outwork with several narrow traverses and large flanking bastions, but otherwise no additional defence to the castle walls, which were quite inaccessible. Around their foot, separated only by an open courtyard, surrounded by a low wall with bastions at intervals, were the terraced houses of the place, thickly placed together, and filling up the space between the outer wall of the village and the castle itself. There was no doubt that the community living there was thriving, and better protected than those of the more open villages of the country. The houses, too, were of a superior and more substantial character, and gave assurance of habitual safety and wealth.

Outside all, ran a high wall, also of mud, with large round bastions at intervals, loopholed and mounted with jinjalls, and other wall-pieces, with two large gates, each defended by an outer work and traverse, and heavy bastions on each side; and there were several smaller wickets or posterns, each with a parapet wall before, and a tower beside it. The whole formed a very strong position, impregnable against any attack by marauding horse; and even in the event of a siege by a better organized force, it could have held out stoutly.

The ground for some distance round Itga formed a clear natural esplanade, over which it was impossible for anything to advance without being seen from the castle walls. This was now like a carpet of emerald green, on which fell the broad shadows of the tall trees near the gates and a grove round a small Hindu temple, and several large herds of cattle rested or browsed before entering the village walls for the night. Beyond the open ground the irrigated fields and gardens of the village commenced; and the bright yellow green of the sugar-cane, in large patches, catching the sun's rays, glowed among the darker colours of the grain crops and cotton, which spread up and down the valley as far as could be seen, and on both sides of the stream flowing in the centre.

Above the village the valley appeared to contract gradually, and the stream to disappear behind a projecting bluff. Below, it opened out considerably; and could be seen for several miles, showing other villages in the distance, with their ghurries, or castles, of the same character as that of Itga, but smaller, rising above the trees; while, here and there, the white dome of a mosque, or steeple of Hindu temple, with portions of the stream, sparkled in the evening sun.

A fair scene now when, over the rich crops and gardens, and spreading over the tender distance, the bright evening light threw a mellow radiance, resting with brilliant effect upon the projections and bastions of the castle, upon the terraces of the houses, the heavy gateways, the people passing to and fro, and the bright-coloured cattle upon the village green. A fair scene, truly, and in strong contrast with the character of the place, which, to say the truth, was evil enough in some respects.

The owner of this village, and of several adjoining villages, was the Pahar Singh, whom, casually, we have already had occasion to mention. Nominally a frontier officer of the Beejapoor State, "Hazaree," or commander of a thousand men, and holding the estate in maintenance of a troop of horse and a number of foot soldiers, which, though somewhat less, passed for a thousand in the royal musters of Beejapoor,—Pahar Singh had by no means followed his father's example of steady devotion to his duty, or confined his men to the purpose for which they were intended. During his father's lifetime he had engaged with the most dissolute and lawless of his father's retainers in border raids and forays without number, and had not unfrequently defied the troops of the State, bringing his father's good name into very questionable repute.

After the old man's death, wilder times ensued, when a bold stroke, here and there, decided a man's fortune; and proportionately as he was powerful or otherwise locally, his influence, both at court and in the provinces, extended. Pahar Singh had struck many such, with which, however, we have no concern. Following the example of the Beydur chief of Sugger, he had imposed a system of black-mail all over the frontier near his estate, which, if not regularly paid, was enforced roughly enough; while, on his part, his clients were protected from violence by other parties. The system, in fact, extended to the capital itself, and merchants and rich travellers paid Pahar Singh's dues as the best means of escaping outrage if they had to travel across his marches.

To others but his own people, Pahar Singh was a merciless savage, for the most part; and even his own relations, and those who knew him best, could hardly account for the variation of temper which could watch torture for the extortion of money—perhaps an agonized death—at one moment, and at the next listen to a tale of distress, or need, or sickness, and relieve it himself, or send it to his wife Rookminee, with a message which insured prompt attention from that kind lady.

It is perhaps unnecessary to go far back into history for illustrations of character like that of "the Hazaree." Such still exists among the native states of India, and even among our own subjects, restrained by the power of the paramount Government, if not by the spirit of the times—but still restrained—from lives as reckless and lawless, from savagery as deep and as unrelenting, as was that of Pahar Singh. With such characters, evil passions have taken the form of sensuality in its varied phases, which, as mostly concerning the individual himself, blunts the exercise of all finer feelings, but does not occasion the misery to others which would be the result of unfettered and misguided action.

The party we have mentioned had descended the small pass from the tableland above, and had pressed merrily on to the village gate, where they were met by friends, and welcomed by many a rough but kind greeting, and by a discharge of wall-pieces from the bastions, and shots from the castle, answered by the matchlocks of the party. Having entered the deep arched gateway, they were now emerging irregularly from its shadow into the main street, down which the sun streamed brightly. The terraced houses were covered with women and children waving cloths, or whatever they could catch up. The shopkeepers, for the most part, descended from their seats and exchanged respectful greetings with the leader; and as the small troop passed up towards the open space below the castle, still firing shots, it was plain that every one had forgotten the fatigue of the march in his safe return.

The horsemen remained mounted after the halt, and several stout serving-men took the heavy bags of money which each in succession loosed from his saddle-bow, and carried them into the castle. This done, the leader dismounted, and the chief "Karkoon," or scribe, delivered a short but pleasant message from the chief, and dismissed the rest; and the men, wheeling round, discharged an irregular volley from their matchlocks, and, passing back round the foot of the outer bastion of the court, separated, each to his own house.

"He will not delay you long," said Amrut Rao, the Hazaree's chief Karkoon, or scribe, to the leader; "but you are not to go, he says, without seeing him."

"What temper is he in?" asked the person addressed.

"Not good—but no fear for you. He is angry at Gopal Singh's absence, that is all; so be careful, Maun Singh, and do not cross him to-day. Come, he has looked for you these many hours."

Maun Singh, an active, intelligent man, with a bright soldierly bearing, was a cousin of the chief, and a valuable and trusty leader of partisan expeditions. This foray had been remarkable for its success. A convoy of treasure, belonging to the neighbouring kingdom of Golconda, had been attacked on its way to the capital, its escort defeated, and the money for the most part secured and brought in. The largest portion of the force was returning by a different road; this, consisting of picked men and horses, had pressed on home with the booty.

Maun Singh entered the gate with his companions, and ascended an inclined plane leading to a court above, which, the outer one of the interior of the castle, was that to which men were alone allowed access. On two sides were open verandahs, consisting of double rows of wooden arches, supported upon carved pillars, the floor of the inner one being raised a little above that of the outer. On the east side, a large chamber of some pretension, ended in an oriel window, fitted with delicately carved shutters, which admitted light and air. This chamber was three arches in depth, and the wood-work of the pillars was carved in bold designs of flowers and leaves, the ends of the beams being fancifully cut into dragons' heads, the lines of which were carried gracefully into the general patterns of flowers and leaves. This was the chamber, or hall, of audience.

On the fourth side of the court was a stable, and a door which led to servants' rooms and offices, and there were folding-doors in the verandahs on both sides communicating with women's apartments, and stairs leading to the roofs of the buildings which formed the parapets for defence of the castle.

As he entered the court, Maun Singh greeted, and was saluted in turn by, those around; and a party of scribes, engaged in accounts at the entrance of the hall, rose at his approach. Passing these, he went on to his relative, who was sitting reclined against a large pillow in a recess of the window, and who half rose as he returned his salutation, but not courteously.

Pahar Singh was always remarkable—no one could look on him unmoved. He had a strong-featured hard face, prominent aquiline nose, deep-set black eyes, not so large, as penetrating in character, and covered by bushy eyelashes. The eyes were restless and unsettled in character, and, by this, and the general expression of his countenance, he was nicknamed the falcon. None of the hair on his face was shaved, and the whole was tied up in a knot and wound round his head in a thick heavy mass, while the thin grey and sandy-coloured beard and moustaches, divided in the centre, were usually passed over each ear, but could, if he pleased, be worn flowing down to the waist. The forehead was high and covered with deep wrinkles, and upon it the veins from the root of the nose stood out roughly and with a knotted appearance, apparently the result of habitual excitement. The mouth had hard cruel lines about it, and the sinewy throat tended to increase the rugged character of the whole countenance.

In age he appeared past forty. Naked to the waist, his figure was wiry, and showed great power, particularly in his arms. Pahar Singh's strength was proverbial in the country; and the large exercising clubs, standing in a corner, which he used several times during the day, could be wielded by none but himself.

"I received your letter, Maun Singh," he said, before that person was seated. "Why did you delay? Why did you let that boy leave you? By Gunga, if the boy dies, or comes to hurt, your life shall answer for it."

"Pahar Singh," replied the other, who always addressed his cousin by name if he were angry, and who had less fear of him than any one else, "I have done good work. There are more than twenty thousand rupees yonder, and I have only lost one man."

"True, true, brother," cried the chief, waving his hand; "there is no blame for that, only for the boy. What took him to Kullianee?"

"I sent him to Poorungeer, the banker, with the bills, to see if any were negotiable. There he heard of something; and when all was quiet at Muntalla, he departed at night without my knowledge. He only left word that he had gone after some good business, and was not to be followed."

"Wrong, Maun Singh. Thou wert wrong not to watch him—not to send men after him. If he dies, O Maun Singh, O brother, it were better thou wert never born!" and the chief smote his pillow angrily with his clenched fist.

"His fate is not in my hand, Pahar Singh," retorted the other; "and——"

"Do you answer me? do you answer me?" cried the chief, savagely grasping the pillow, the veins of his forehead swelling and his nostrils dilating as he spoke.

Amrut Rao knew the sign, and interposed. "Is this money to be counted?" he said, pointing to the bags; "if so, give me the key of the treasury, and let the Jemadar go home. He is tired, and you will like to see the coin. It shall be counted before you."

"Good! Go, Maun Singh. I shall be quieter when you return," replied the chief. "Ah, yes! we were once the same, brother. We could not be stopped either," he said more gently, "if we had anything to do."

"The hunchbacks are with him, and they are all on foot, brother," returned Maun Singh: "fear not; but if thou art restless, give me some fresh men and a fresh horse, and we will ride round the villages."

"No; go home—go home. No; let him hunt his own game," returned the chief.

"But about the money? DÉo Rao wants to get home now, for he is starving," interposed the Karkoon.

"Let him go then!" exclaimed the chief tartly.

"No, he can't go till it is counted," retorted Amrut Rao.

"It need not be counted."

"It must be counted, Maharaj! If there is a rupee wrong we shall never hear the last of it. The bags have never been opened—who knows what is in them?"

"It may be gold, Amrut Rao. Come, who knows? yes, who knows? Come," exclaimed Pahar Singh excitedly.

Few could take the liberties in speech with the chief that were permitted to Amrut Rao, and even he was not always successful; but now the Suraffs, or money-changers, sent for had arrived, and Pahar Singh watched the opening of every bag with an almost childish curiosity. All anxiety for his nephew had departed before the sight of money. Yet Gopal Singh was the life and stay of the house; precious as Pahar Singh's heir, and more so as the husband of his daughter, who was as yet a child.

"Good coin, good coin!" cried the chief exultingly, as the contents of the bags passed through the experienced hands of the examiners without one being rejected. "Good coin! O Amrut Rao, I vow all the light weights to feed Brahmuns. Dost thou hear?"

"I am afraid their bellies will be empty enough," returned the Karkoon, laughing. "No, Maharaj! do better: send five hundred to Vyas Shastree to offer at the shrine of Sri MÁta if Gopal Singh returns safe to-night. You cannot disappoint her and be secure."

"Well spoken! well spoken! Yes, put the money aside; yes, put all the light-weight coin and make it up; thou shalt have it—if—he comes. Holy Gunga! what is that?" he exclaimed, suddenly, as a separate bag rolled out of one then being emptied. "Gold, by all the gods! Give it me; I will count it myself."