WANA AFFGHAR OF PUNEPUT.
Each now touched his ear to the wall, which was a better conductor of
sound than the air. As a result, both heard persons talking. They
did not speak continuously, and modulated their words so that it was
impossible to catch their meaning.
It was quite clear, however, that the strangers on the other side
were aware that some kind of danger threatened them, for they used
the utmost care. It looked as though they had entered an unsuspected
apartment adjoining the one in which the three fugitives took refuge
when fleeing from the Ghoojurs, and they were at that moment
discussing their situation.
"Now, who can they be?" asked Harkins; "I am inclined to suspect they
are Ghoojurs, who have found some secret way into this temple."
"More likely they are refugees like ourselves,--some poor people who
have known of the temple, and imagine they have a good hiding place
from the mutineers."
"We must learn the truth as soon as we can."
In the hope of finding some spot in the wall where they could hear
more distinctly, the surgeon began groping along its face with his
hands. He could not see clearly enough in the dim light to discern
small objects.
"Helloa! here's something!" he exclaimed, in the same guarded voice.
"What is it?" asked his companion.
"It feels like the knob of a door."
"Maybe it's a door bell; give it a pull and see whether the people
are receiving calls," said Harkins, whose high spirits could not
always be repressed even in the most critical moments.
"Here is a door-----"
"Good by," called the sportsman, as he saw his friend pass through an
opening that suddenly presented itself.
Drawing the handle to one side the door slid to the left, and Avery
advanced a couple of steps into a smaller room. Then, fearful of a
volley from the strangers, he quickly drew back beside Harkins.
"Did you see anybody?" asked the latter.
"No; I didn't dare wait; there seems to be about as much light in
that apartment as there is in this."
Both were quiet, and the next minute whispers were heard, followed by
the cautious movement of feet.
"Be careful," whispered Harkins; "there are more wonders in the ruins
than are dreamt of in our philosophy; there's deviltry afoot, and
we'll get a shot before you know it."
"_Baird, Baird, is that you?_"
The soft voice came from within the smaller apartment. It was low,
but its music had charmed Avery many a time. He sprang forward into
the room.
"Good heavens! it is Marian!"
She advanced hastily through the twilight, and was clasped in his
arms. As Harkins entered, the missionary and his wife came forward
and shook his hand.
Suffering and danger drew all near together in this trying hour, and
the man whom they had never heard of until within a few days was as
dear to all as though his brave devotion had been attested by years
of service.
As may be supposed, Mr. Hildreth had an interesting story to tell.
That morning their guide, Luchman, had been gone but a short time,
when they were frightened by the appearance of a man who seemed to be
a Brahmin fakir. He surprised the fugitives by showing an
extraordinary knowledge of every one of them. He said he knew they
were fleeing from Delhi to Kurnal, and that a large party of Ghoojurs
were hunting for them, believing they carried much riches. Still
further, they were aware of the precise part of the jungle where the
Feringhees had taken refuge, and would soon come to rob and kill them.
Remarkable as was this statement, Mr. Hildreth believed it, mainly
because of the intimate knowledge the fakir showed of his affairs.
The Brahmin added that he had received so many kindnesses from the
missionaries that he was anxious to befriend them, but the
circumstances--as could be readily seen--were such that he could do
so only in an indirect manner. He informed them that there was but
the one course by which they could save their lives: that was to
hasten at once to the sacred temple, dedicated to the worship of
Gungah, the goddess of the Ganges who came to restore to King Suguin
the sixty thousand sons that had been reduced to ashes. The fakir
insisted that though this temple was in ruins, it would not be
profaned by any of the roving Ghoojurs, even if they learned the
party had taken refuge there.
This theology was altogether different from what Mr. Hildreth had
heard since living in India, but he decided to leave the jungle, much
as he would have preferred to await the return of Luchman. His
anxiety to get away was deepened by several suspicious movements on
the part of natives at a distance.
All being in native costume, they were not likely to attract notice
when in the company of the fakir, whom they followed across the open
plain to the temple, where he left them just as day began breaking.
He promised to acquaint Luchman with what he had done, and to be back
at the end of an hour.
The missionary feared he had committed a serious indiscretion, but
the intense mental strain to which he had been subjected during the
past few days no doubt affected his power of judgment.
But the family were no sooner left alone than they disposed of
themselves in the most comfortable positions, and fell into a sound
slumber which lasted until they heard noises in the adjoining room.
It was while they were talking about it that Harkins overheard them,
and the discovery followed that all were in the same building, or
figuratively speaking in the "same boat."
This was an extraordinary narrative indeed, and the identity of the
native who played the part of Brahmin fakir was a source of profound
wonder.
Since no one ever could guess, Dr. Avery went outside to where
Luchman was on guard, told the story to him and asked his opinion.
The converted Hindoo was never so dumfounded in all his life. He was
overjoyed to find that his friends were in the building, but he did
not hesitate to say that the missionary had been imposed upon.
"Tell me, sahib, how this fakir looks," said he.
"I did not hear any description of him. I will bring Mr. Hildreth,
and he will answer your questions."
"That will be well, sahib; I think I know the fakir."
Mr. Hildreth warmly greeted the guide as he came forth, and the two
looked cautiously out over the plain to see if there was any danger
of immediate attack from the Ghoojurs. Luchman said there was none,
and the two then began talking about the fakir in whom all felt much
interest.
"This seems to be a land of mystery," said the surgeon to himself:
"and here is one of them."
To the disgust of the young physician, at the moment the conversation
grew more interesting, the two dropped into Hindustani, and all that
he had learned during his several years' residence in Calcutta did
not suffice to afford him an inkling of the meaning of a single
sentence.
Avery believed that the reverend gentleman gave information to
Luchman which he withheld from the others. The expression on the
faces of both showed they felt unusual interest in the question. The
native told the missionary who he believed the bogus fakir was, and
shortly after Mr. Hildreth walked back through the archway to his
family and friends.
Finding himself alone with the guide, Dr. Avery asked:
"What have the Ghoojurs done since we left you?"
"Nothing, sahib; they have been talking together and have moved
backward and forward. But there they are, sahib, the same as when
you went inside."
Avery looked out and of course saw that things were as stated by the
native. The dozen brigands who showed such annoying interest in them
formed an irregular group, some of whom were lolling on the ground,
in the fervid rays of the sun, while others stood near each other
discussing questions in which they were interested, the all important
one being as to the best means of dislodging the Feringhees from the
ruins of the temple.
While the surgeon was studying the ruffians, he observed a Ghoojur
riding toward them. He came from a direction which shut him from
view until close at hand. The two sentinels, as they may be called,
walked to the entrance of the archway, where they scrutinized the men
with the closest attention.
The horseman halted when he reached the squad of brigands, and talked
several minutes with them. Then he wheeled his horse around, and
rode on a walk toward the ruined temple.
Coming into clearer view, it was seen that he was dressed better than
any of the others, and no doubt was their leader. He wore a massive
turban, from which descended a graceful scarf of embroidered muslin,
and carried a beautifully ornamented sword at his side. His animal
was a small pony of high blood, jet black in color, and was
caparisoned as gayly as the steed of a Rajah.
It struck Avery that he approached dangerously close before he drew
up and took a survey of the temple, as though it was entirely new to
him. His sallow face, with the sunken and lustrous eyes, the
beak-like nose, and the long coarse mustache curling downward, were
so distinctly seen by the doctor that he was sure he could never
forget them.
Luchman showed a deep interest in the ruffian, and he drew Avery back
a few steps as a precaution against treachery.
"You will remember him, sahib?" he asked, in a low voice.
"As long as I live! Who is he?"
"He is the Brahmin fakir who brought the missionary and his family to
this temple; I know his name, sahib."
"What is it?"
"Wana Affghar of Puneput. He is the Ghoojur chieftain who has hunted
me so long, because of the Star of India which I carry; he feels sure
of me now; he has tracked me better than I believed he could do."