an idol, and, with his chin upon his breast, sat there
perfectly silent, and as if in rapt contemplation.

Salaman seemed puzzled, and Dost looked like a statue that had been very
much knocked about.

"What shall I do, my lord?" he whispered. "I do not like to touch him;
he would begin to curse again."

"Then pray don't touch him," I said testily. "He will go to sleep now;
he is tired."

"It is not sleep," whispered Salaman. "He goes into a state that may
last for hours or days. Will my lord come to his tent?"

"No," I said emphatically; "if I move, perhaps it will set him off
again. Let him stay and curse the rajah when he comes."

"I pray he may not," said Salaman hurriedly; "his highness is soon
angry. But, no: he would not curse him."

"Never mind," I said; "get me a melon. I am thirsty."

Salaman glanced at the motionless figure with its head bent down, and
then hurried away to obey my command.

Dost did not stir, but sat there staring hard at the ground, and I saw
his ears twitch. Then, in a quick whisper, he said--

"I could not come near your tent. Watched, sahib. Was obliged to do
this. Turn your head away, and do not look at me, but hiss, hiss, like
a snake, when you see him coming."

"Yes," I said, as I threw myself sidewise on the pillows. "Tell me what
you propose doing."

"Going away to-day to find the captain, and tell him all. He may come
to your help at once. If he does not, it is because the country is full
of enemies."

"Can't you take me with you, Dost?"

"No, sahib, you are growing stronger, but you could not sit a horse for
long enough yet, and you have not strength enough to fight and defend us
both. I am not a fighting man."

Hiss!

Salaman was on his way back with a silver dish, on which lay a melon and
knife, while one of the bearers carried a plate and sugar.

The former glanced at Dost, as he paused, and then placed the melon
before me.

"It is beautifully ripe, my lord," he said, "and will quench your
thirst."

I laughed.

"It is good to see my lord smile," said Salaman, "he is better, and it
makes my heart glad."

"I was laughing," I said, "because the old fakir must be thirstier than
I. All those hot words must have burned his throat."

Salaman smiled, but became solemn again directly.

"Truly his words were hot, my lord," he said.

"Then cut him a big piece of the melon, and give him, before I touch it,
and he thinks it is defiled."

Sala