that was prowling about, gazing the while at my shaded lamp, round
which quite a dozen moths were circling, and finally dropped off to
sleep.

It was late in the morning when I opened my eyes, to find the white
figure of Salaman patiently in attendance, waiting for me to get up.

He smiled as soon as he saw that I was awake, and threw open the folds
of the tent door to admit the sunshine. Then, with all the skill and
cleverness of the native valet, he carefully waited on me, relieving me
of all difficulties due to my wounded arm, which was painful in the
extreme if I attempted to move it, and when I was nearly dressed, turned
silently to the door to signal to his men to be ready with my early
coffee.

"The morning is _very_ hot, my lord," he said; "and I have told them to
place the breakfast under the tree. It is a fresh spot, which I hope my
lord will like."

At that moment there was a low moaning cry, as of some one in pain,
hurried steps, loud voices, and then a dull thud, as if some one had
fallen.

Salaman ran out of the tent, and I followed, to find that, some twenty
yards away, a figure in ragged white garments was lying on the ground,
his face covered with blood, which literally dyed his garments; and as
he lay there upon his breast with his arms extended, one hand held a
little round shield, the other grasped a bloody sword.

"What is it?" cried Salaman to four of his men, who were standing about
the prostrate figure.

"As we live, we do not know," said one of them. "He came running up,
crying for help, and when we spoke, he looked back as if frightened, and
struggled on till he fell, as you see."

"He has been attacked by budmashes," said another.

"No," said the first. "Look at his long beard; he is a holy man--a
fakir."

At that moment the poor fellow tried to raise himself, and groaned out
the words, "Bagh, bagh!"

"Ah!" cried Salaman, bending down over him.

"Quick! some cotton--some water," I said; "the poor fellow has been
attacked and mauled by a tiger."

"Bagh, bagh!" groaned the man again, and he struggled up now to rest
upon his shield-hand, gazing wildly round, and, shuddering before
seeming satisfied that the danger was passed, he raised his curved sword
and looked at it.

By this time one of the men had fetched some strips of cotton, and
another brought fresh water, a portion of which the fakir drank
heartily, but resented the attendant's action, as he sought to bathe his
f