s of powder in another," I
said to myself. "Oh, it must be the result of some children at play;
they cannot possibly be meant for me;" and in disgust, I tossed the
powder out of the window, and directly after, flung out the piece of
steel with the result that, almost simultaneously, I heard what sounded
like a grunt, and the jingling of the metal on the marble paving.

I ran to the window, and looked out from behind the hanging which I held
before me, suspecting that I had inadvertently hit one of the bheesties.
And so it proved, for I saw the man nearest to me stoop to pick up the
piece of bayonet, and then nearly go down on his nose, for the
water-skin shifted, and it was only by an effort that he recovered
himself, and shook it back into its place on his loins.

Just then the other water-bearer came up to him, and said something in a
low tone--I could not hear what, for he and his companion conversed
almost in whispers, as if overawed by the sanctity of the place in which
they stood. But it was all evident enough, as I could make out by their
gestures: the second bheestie asked the first what was the matter, and
this man told him that some one had taken aim with a piece of steel,
which he passed on, and struck him on the back. The second man examined
the piece, passed it back, and evidently said, "Some one is having a
game with you," for he laughed, and they both looked up at the windows,
as if to see who threw the piece.

Just then I saw a fierce-looking man come from the gateway, sword in
hand; the two bheesties went on with their watering, and I heard him
speaking angrily, and he gave force to his abuse by striking each man
sharply with the flat of his sword. But the blows were harmless, for
they fell on the water-skins, and, as soon as he had marched off, I saw
the men look at each other and grin.

I drew back, and began to pace my room like a wild beast in a cage, for
the idea had come strongly upon me that, after all, those packets were
meant for me, and the more I told myself that it was folly, the stronger
the conviction grew, and I found myself muttering, "Powder and bayonet--
powder and bayonet--what can it mean?"

"Declaration of war," I said to myself at last; but I gave that idea up,
for war had been declared long enough ago. No. It could not mean that.
And yet it seemed as if it might be a symbolical message, such as these
unseen people would send.

"A message--a message--a message," I mutte