her to cry out as if in misery.

Presently a whimsical fancy swayed the girl, and she said, "Ayub Alli!"

Barlow laughed, and answered: "Bismillah!"

"So, Afghan, riding thus, it is not disrespect, just that we be of
different faith, Hindu and Musselman."

"If it were thus, we'd not part at Mandhatta. And as to the faith,
thou wouldst become a follower of the Prophet."

"Yes, Bootea would. If she could go forever thus she would sacrifice
entrance to _kailas_. But this is heaven; and perhaps Omkar, when I
make the sacrifice--I mean offering--will listen to Bootea's prayers,
and--and--"

"And what, Gulab?" Barlow asked, for the girl turned her face against
his breast, and her voice had smothered.

Their thoughts were distracted by a din in front that shattered the
solemn hush of the night. There was a thunderous beat of tom-toms, the
shrill rasping screech of conch-shells, and in intervals of subversion
of instrumental clamour they could hear women's voices, high-pitched,
singing the _scahailia_ (song of joy). Loud cries of "Jae, Jae,
Omkar!" rose in a chorus from a hundred swelling throats.

At a turning around a huge banyan tree they saw the flickering flames
of torches, and Barlow knew that plodding in front was a large body of
pilgrims.

He quickened his horse's pace, drawing Bootea closer to hide her from
curious eyes, and as he passed the Hindus he knew from their scowling
faces and cries of, "It is a Kaffir--a barbarian!" that they took him
for a Mussulman, perhaps one of Sindhia's Arabs.

At the head of the procession, carried on a platform gaily decorated
with gaudy cloths, borne on the shoulders of four men, was a figure of
Ganesha. The obese, four-armed, jovial son of Shiva, bobbing in the
rhythmic stride of his carriers, seemed to nod his elephant head at the
horseman approvingly, wishing him luck as was the wont of Ganesha. The
procession drove in upon Barlow's mind the thought that they were
nearing Mandhatta; he realised it with a pang of reluctance. It seemed
but a matter of just minutes since he had lifted Bootea to the saddle.

It had hurried the Gulab's mind, too, for at another turn where the
road slid into the valley, bringing to their nostrils the soft perfume
of _kush-kush_ grass and the savour of _jamun_ that grew luxuriantly on
the banks of the Narbudda, the Gulab asked: "The Sahib will marry the
young Memsahib who is at the city of the Peshwa?"

Barlow was startled. It was