Pahar Singh had been long watching from the window we have before mentioned. There were three descents from the plain above to the village, all within his view; and there were men on each of the bastions also, watching in all directions. He was very restless and moody; not even the gold found in several bags which he had taken to his private apartments—not even the large amount of booty, which had so few light coins in it—could dispel the gloom. He had ordered all about him to be silent, and even Amrut Rao had obeyed him as yet; and his little daughter, who was allowed to sit in the hall when no strangers were present, had nestled to his side, but was afraid to speak.

Ararat Rao knew, however, by experience, that the more his master was allowed to brood over anything in this manner, the harder it was to rally him; and as the account of the money had been made up, he took the paper, trimmed the lamp, and stood in an attitude to read, unchecked by the actual distortion of the chief's face in a repressed fury, at which even his daughter concealed herself, and cowered into a corner, and which soon broke out in violent oaths and abuse.

Amrut Rao bent to the storm, and did not reply. After an interval he read slowly:—

"Twenty-seven thousand two hundred and ninety-three rupees; and the five bags of ashruffees which you took inside—how many were in them?"

"What is that to you? do you want to steal them? By the gods! you are over-familiar to-night, Amrut Rao. Did I not bid ye all be silent, and dare you disobey? you—dare you?" cried the chief, raising himself, while the foam gathered upon his lips, and the veins swelled on his forehead. "Dare you?"

"My lord," replied Amrut Rao, joining his hands, "abuse of a Brahmun, out of a noble mouth, is sin—unfitting to hear. Be reasonable. This is the best booty which we have seen for many a day. If we knew the total of the ashruffees we could add it, and you could sign the day-book, and clear away all the bags. It is getting late."

"Let it be. No, I will not sign the paper," cried Pahar Singh, petulantly. "What need have I with wealth? he will not come now. I will go to Kasee, Jugunath, and RamÉshwur; I will give up the world; I have committed much sin, and will have no more of it. I will—— Ha, by the gods! there is a shot on the road," he continued, as the sharp ring of Gopal Singh's matchlock broke the silence without: "another, and another! and a horse's neigh, too; and there were but the three. Can it be they, Maun Singh? speak! by your soul, speak: why are you silent?"

"Let the cloud pass from your spirit, brother: it is they, sure enough. I would swear to Gopal's gun by its ring anywhere."

"Burn a light from the upper bastion—two! it may cheer them down the pass. Quick!" cried the chief; "answer their signal. O Maun Singh! if I said anything bad, forgive me, brother; but I was distraught with care for that boy. Yes, they will see that," as the first blue light glittered over the village. "Burn another, Ranoba—a large one!" he called from the window to the men above; "we may even see them. By the gods! yes, Maun Singh, there they are: the three, and a man on horseback muffled up—a large grey horse—who can it be? Get hot water ready, and enough for all to eat. Bring a goat to kill before him. Tell thy mother, O daughter, to see to this; tell her they are come. How many short rupees were there, Amrut Rao?"

"My lord, it was as I said: the Brahmuns' bellies would be empty if we trusted to short rupees; all we could find were nine doubtful ones."

"Then, count out fifty more—stay, a hundred: will that feed them?"

"You have not told me how much gold there was, Maharaj," continued the Karkoon pertinaciously, not noticing the gift.

"Now, a plague on thee for an obstinate fool, Amrut Rao," replied the chief, laughing; "did I not tell thee not to speak about it?"

"The total of the silver is twenty-seven thousand two hundred and ninety-three rupees," returned the Karkoon; "and the gold must be added to complete the account before we retire."

"Well, then, there were five bags, and fifty Akburi mohurs in each: will that content you? or must you see them?"

"Why couldn't you tell me this at first?" continued Amrut Rao, writing in the account, which he spread on his left hand; "there, at twenty rupees each, another five thousand, that makes thirty-two thousand two hundred and ninety-three rupees. My lord ordered fifty rupees for the dole to-morrow; it might as well be the odd ninety-three."

"Ay, take that, and the two hundred over to boot, good fellow, if thou wilt. Here, some of you, stop him, stop my son, and kill a goat before him at the gate; see that lights are waved over him, and the evil eye is taken off him. Quick! there are the torches flashing in the bazar."

"I have deducted the sum, Maharaj," said the Karkoon deliberately; "now look at the total, and put your seal to it. Thirty-two thou——"

"By Krishna! thou wouldst leave me no peace, Amrut Rao," replied the chief; "here is the seal; seal the memorandum, and begone. Yet stay; thou art a good fellow after all; so take a handsome doopatta, or a pair of dhotees, out of that coin for thyself."

"Not out of the Brahmuns' bellies," retorted the Karkoon; "thank you. I shall have plenty of gifts by-and-by. Here is your seal."

The chief might have answered angrily, had his attention not been diverted at the moment. "Ah, here they are," he cried, looking from the window; "they have brought the man's horse up to the steps, and are taking him off—bound, too! Ai PurmÉshwar! but there must be much to hear. Why do they delay?"

In truth they had not delayed; for several torch-bearers, stationed at the gate, hearing the shots on the hill, had run forward in the direction of the pass, while the retainers and others from the bazar, crowded up to bid the young man welcome; for the anxiety in the castle had spread over the village. So Gopal Singh and his party entered the gates among many eager faces, lighted up by torches tossing above them, and were welcomed by noisy shouts as the men clustered round them. Then a bevy of village women awaited them, some bearing brass dishes filled with mustard-seed, and small lighted lamps, which were waved over him; others with jars of water, which were poured out before him; and, as others joined them, there was quite a procession up to the end of the second traverse.

Farther on, at the gate of the castle, stood a body of the household servants and retainers, one having a naked sword, and a goat before him bleating loudly. As Gopal Singh advanced, the sword flashed in the air, and the headless carcase struggled convulsively as the blood spouted over the sill and step, and trickled down towards the Lalla, who, lifted from his horse, shuddered as he was set down among it.

Again the ceremony of having lights waved over him by some of the women-servants was repeated; and Gopal Singh, bidding Lukshmun and the others search the Lalla carefully and keep what was found, ascended to the court, and was met in a warm embrace by his uncle, and led to the window, where, being seated, all present, including Maun Singh, advanced to salute him in turn.

"What did I say, brother?" cried Maun Singh joyfully. "I knew he would not disappoint us. Yet thou shouldst not have gone alone, Gopal."

"Nay, but I had the hunchbacks with me, and more would have spoiled my small hunt, which, if not so grand as thine, uncle, may yet be important," replied the young man.

"Ah, the boy, the boy!" exclaimed the chief, stroking the young man's face, and kissing the tips of his own fingers; "have I not brought him up since he was the height of my knee? And I thought him lost—Ai BhugwÂn, BhugwÂn! Ai PurmÉshwar! He is safe and well—safe and well, O Sri MÁta! My heart swells. What did I say for the Brahmuns? Never mind now. Go, bathe and eat, my son, and we will see to everything afterwards."

"Not before that matter is settled, father—that is, about the man I brought with me."

"Yes, I had forgotten—certainly. Light the large lamps," cried the chief to the attendants at the lower end of the room; "let us see what manner of man he is. Who is he, Gopal?"

"That we have to find out, father. They thought him a spy of the Emperor's, and he came from Aurungabad, by Bheer, to Kullianee, to the Gosai's. He changed some bills for gold, and he has got it. I offered escort, but was refused; so I went from Muntalla to the Burr tree at Kinny, for we heard he was going to sleep in the Mutt at Surroori. They were sending him on privately, father."

"Shabash! well done, son. A spy? Well, if we are true to the King's salt, he goes no farther; and he was being sent privately! Ah, the old foxes! Here he is—what a sight!" cried the chief, breaking into uncontrollable laughter. "Who art thou? What have they done to thee? Speak."

In truth the poor Lalla was a show. The order to search him had been literally complied with, and while two stout fellows held his arms wide apart, he was helpless to struggle. Rama and Lukshmun, who would allow no one to touch him, had dived into every pocket, and felt every possible place of concealment, even to the Lalla's hair, which was loosened and hung about his shoulders. His turban had been removed and shaken out, while one end was now fastened to his right arm. The bag of gold, tied round his waist, his bundle of precious papers, his sword, dagger, and waist-shawl, had all been taken from him and made into a bundle, and the articles were deliberately counted by the hunchback as they were deposited, one by one, in the centre of the shawl spread out for the purpose. It was quite in vain that the Lalla entreated, besought, struggled, or resisted by turns; the place, the rough men around him, all forbade hope of pity, and he submitted. Finally, Lukshmun dragging him by the end of his turban, Rama pushing him behind, and several of the others assisting, the Lalla was brought into the presence of the chief, where he sank down, stupidly staring about him.

Where were all the fine speeches he had contrived, which should have carried the chief's heart at once? All the couplets, too, from the BÔstan that he was to have quoted?—All gone. His head was bare, his clothes untied and hanging loosely about him; his boots removed: and his appearance of utter helplessness, and the hopeless, piteous expression of despair in his face, might have excited compassion in any but the hardened men by whom he was surrounded and confronted.

"Who art thou, knave? Speak," cried the chief, sternly, again raising his voice and checking his laughter. "Who art thou?"

"There now, make a salaam to the 'Lion of the Jungle'" (as the chief was called among his people), said Lukshmun, raising the right hand of the Lalla to his head, which dropped helplessly. "Ah, I see he is ashamed, poor man, of his naked head. There, Lallajee," and he wound the turban round his head hastily, giving it a ludicrous cock to one side, increasing, if possible, the grotesque expression of the features—"there now, get up and make your TusleemÂt, else my lord may be angry; and he is not exactly safe when he is," he added in a whisper. "Get up, and don't be afraid."

But the Lalla's terror was too great, his mouth too dry to speak. "Aman, aman!—Mercy, mercy!" was all he could gasp.

"Who art thou, knave?" cried Pahar Singh again. "Whence art thou come? Give a good account of thyself. Let go of him, rascals!" he continued to the men who held him; "begone all of ye."

"Maharaj," cried Lukshmun beseechingly to the chief, "here are the Lalla's things; who will take them? Look, Rao Sahib," he continued, to Amrut Rao, "here they are: count them. I have done with them—for the Lion is getting savage—let me go. Beware, O Lalla! take my advice, and tell all about yourself, else I shall have to kill you somehow. You don't know the Maharaj as I do."

This advice, and the diversion effected by the hunchback, afforded the Lalla a little time for the recovery of his senses; but who could have recognized the bland, accomplished Toolsee Das, in the abject figure before them? Hastily pressing the turban straight upon his brows, the Lalla arose, and, as well as he could, made the ordinary TusleemÂt.

"Shabash!" cried the chief. "Well done, that was never learned in the jungle. Now speak truly, and at once, who art thou?"

"Noble sir," returned the Lalla, "I claim your protection. There has been a mistake about my treatment. My property has been taken, and I have been misused——"

"I misuse thee, knave?" cried Pahar Singh, his brow darkening; "who art thou to bandy words with Pahar Singh? I have never seen thee before."

"Beware, Lallajee," said Gopal Singh; "did I not warn thee? Say who thou art at once, or I will not answer for thee. Do not eat dirt."

"Peace, boy!" interrupted the chief angrily; "the fellow looks like a knave—a thief—his is no honest face. Speak; or, by the gods, there will be scant ceremony with thee!"

"My lord, my lord!" cried the Lalla piteously; "mercy, I am no thief; I am a poor Khayet of Delhi, travelling to Beejapoor, on business of my own—a stranger—a poor stranger."

"What business, Lalla?"

"My lord, we are merchants, and have dealings with people there for clothes and jewels. There is a dispute about the accounts, and I have come to settle them," said the Lalla glibly enough. It was one of the stories he had made up by the way.

"Who are the merchants?" asked the chief.

"The Gosais of the Mutt at Kullianee, where I was yesterday; they sent me on," replied the Lalla.

"O, hear!" cried Gopal Singh; "they knew nothing about thee, except that thou hadst a bill on them for a thousand rupees, and the money was given thee in gold. Is not this true? Did I not hear it myself?"

"Thou art no merchant, dog," exclaimed Pahar Singh. "Did ever merchant make an obeisance like that? Ah, we are true testers of gold here; the true and the false are soon found out. Who art thou? speak truly, and fear not."

"By the shrine at Muttra, by the Holy Mother, I am what I say, a poor Khayet, a Mutsuddee only. O noble sirs," continued the Lalla, "give me my property, and let me go. I will seek shelter in the bazar: let me go, for the love of your children."

"I beg to petition," interposed Lukshmun, joining his hands, "that, as I brought him, my share of the gold be given me before he goes. I took care of him on the road—did I not, master?"

"Silence!" roared the chief; "any one who speaks shall be flogged. Who art thou, O liar? Mutsuddee thou art, but whose? Thy speech betrays thee—beware!"

"I have told you, noble sir. Thakoor Das, Preym Das is the name of the firm; my name is Toolsee Das—Lalla Toolsee Das, your slave to command. Ask at Kullianee, and the house will be known there. I—I—am a poor man—a stranger; who knows me?" said the Lalla, now whimpering.

"A fool, a liar art thou, throwing away life," returned Gopal Singh. "This is the second time I have warned thee. We know thou art from the royal camp, and a spy to Beejapoor. Speak, else——"

"And the doom of a spy is death; and thou art a liar too, and a coward to boot. Look at him now, Gopala," said his uncle, interrupting and pointing to the man; "look at his coward face."

The Lalla was trembling violently. His knees shook, and his teeth chattered audibly as he shivered. He could not speak, but looked vacantly from one to another. "I am c-o-o-ld—c-o-o-o-ld," he said faintly; "the wet, sirs, and the long travel. Aman, aman! I am only a merchant, let me go."

"Thou art cold! then we will warm thee," cried the chief grimly. "Yet, speak, O Lalla, ere I give the order. We would not hurt thee without cause—otherwise——"

"Ai Narayun! Ai RÁmchunder! believe me, I am no spy. I swear by God I am no spy," he replied earnestly.

"Bind him!" cried the chief furiously. "A liar and a spy. Make torches of his fingers! we will soon hear the truth."