won't allow that," he declared vehemently, shifting into words his
mental traverse.

Bootea had followed with her eyes his struggle; then she said: "The
Sahib has heard of the women of the Rajputs who, with smiles on their
lips faced death, who, when the time of the last danger came were not
afraid?"

"Yes, Gulab. But for you it is not that way. You have said that I am
your protector--I will be."

There was a smile on the girl's lips as she raised her eyes to
Barlow's. "It is not permitted, Sahib; the gods have the matter in
their lap. For a little--yes, perhaps. It is the time of the
pilgrimage to the shrine of Omkar at Mandhatta, and Bootea will make
the pilgrimage; at the shrine is the priest that told Bootea of her
reincarnations, as I related to the Sahib."

A curious superstitious chill struck with full force upon the heart of
Barlow. Kassim's story of Kumari revivified itself with startling
remembrance. Was this the priest that, to save Kumari's sacrifice, had
wafted her by occult or drug method from one embodied form into
another, from Kumari to Bootea? It was so confusing, so overpowering
in its clutch that he did not speak of it.

The girl was adding: "It is on the Sahib's way to Poona; there will be
many from Karowlee at Mandhatta and I can return with them."

This seemed reasonable to Barlow; she would there be in the company of
people not at war. And then, erratically, rebelliously, he felt a
heart hunger; but he cursed this feeling as being vicious--it was. He
smothered it, shoving it back into a niche of his mind, thinking he had
locked it up--had turned a key in the door of the closet to hide the
skeleton.

He temporised, saying; "Well, we'll see, Gulab; perhaps at Mandhatta I
could wait while you made an offering and a prayer to Omkar, and then
you could journey on to Chunda." To himself he muttered in English:
"By God! I'll not stand for that slimy brute, Nana Sahib's, possession
of the girl--she's too good. I know enough now to denounce him."

In council with himself, standing Captain Barlow firmly on his feet to
face the realities, he realised the impossibility of being anything
more to Bootea than just a Sahib who had by fate been thrown into her
path temporarily. And then, feeling the sway, the compelling force of
a fascinating femininity he almost trembled for himself. Weaker
sahibs--gad! he knew several, one a Deputy Commissioner. A beautiful
little Kashmiri girl had nur