known, Sahib, and that she, with the courage of a
Rajputni, drained the cup that contained the poison brewed from poppy
leaves, and died with a smile on her lips, saying, 'Do not cry, mother;
to give my life for my country is nothing.' That is the known story,
Sahib. But what Hunsa related was that Kumari did not die, but lives,
and has the name of Bootea the Gulab."

The Chief turned his eyes quizzically upon the Englishman, who muttered
a half-smothered cry of surprise.

"It can't be--how could the princess be with men such?"

"Better there than sacrifice. Hunsa learned of this thing through
listening beneath the wall of a tent at night while one Ajeet Singh
spoke of it to the Gulab. It was that the Rana got a yogi, a man
skilled in magical things, either drugs or charms, and that Kumari was
given a potion that caused her to lie dead for days; and when she was
brought back to life of course she had to be removed from where Jaipur
or Marwar might see her or hear of this thing, because they would fly
to the sword again."

Kassim ceased speaking and his eyes carried a look of interrogation as
if he were anxious for a sustaining of his half-faith in the story.

"It's all entirely possible," Barlow declared emphatically; "it's a
common practice in India, this deceit as to death where a death is
necessary. It could all be easily arranged, the Rana yielding to
pressure to save Mewar, and dreading the sin of being guilty of the
death of his daughter. Even the Gulab is like a Princess of the
Sesodias--like a Rajputni of the highest caste."

"Indeed she is, Captain Sahib, the quality of breeding never lies."

"What discredits Hunsa's story," Barlow said thoughtfully, "is that the
Gulab was in the protection of Ajeet Singh who was but a _thakur_ at
best--really a protector of decoits."

"To save Kumari's life she had been given to the yogi, and he would act
not out of affection for the girl's standing as a princess, but to
prevent discovery, bloodshed, and, her life. It is also known that
these ascetics--infidels, children of the Devil--by charm, or drugs, or
otherwise, can cause something like death for days--a trance, and the
one who goes thus knows not who he was when he comes back," Kassim
argued.

"Well," Barlow said, "it is a matter unsolvable, and of no importance,
for the Gulab, Kumari or otherwise, is a princess, such as men fight
and die for."

There was a little silence, Barlow carrying on in his m