huge ball of fire in the west, and the soft radiance of a gentle moon
was gilding with silver the gaunt black arms of a babool. Then the
priest said: "Come, jamadars, we now will go deeper into the silent
places and listen for the voice of Bhowanee."

He untangled from the posture of sitting his parchment-covered matter
of bones, and carrying in one hand a brocaded bag of black velvet and
in the other a staff, with bowed head and mutterings started deeper
into the jungle of cactus and slim whispering bamboo, followed by
Ajeet, Sookdee and Hunsa. Presently he stopped, saying, "Sit you in a
line, brave chiefs, facing the great temple of Siva, which is in the
mountains of the East, so that the voice of Bhowanee coming out of the
silent places and from the mouth of the jackal or the jackass, shall be
known to be from the right or the left, for thus will be the
interpretation."

The priest took his place in front of the jamadars, sitting with his
back to them, and placed upon the ground, first a white cloth of
cotton, and then the velvet bag, upon which rested a silver pickaxe.

When Ajeet saw the pickaxe he said angrily: "That is the emblem of
thugs; we be decoits, not stranglers, Guru."

"They are equal in honour with Bhowanee," the Guru replied: "they slay
for profit, even as you do, and among you are those who are thugs, for
I minister to both."

Then the Guru buried his shrivelled skull in his thin hands and drooped
forward in silent listening. Ajeet objected no more, and in the new
silence they could hear the shrill rasping of cicadae in the foliage of