red; and then the light came,
or what I thought was the light, and I exclaimed joyfully, "Then it was
meant for me!" Yes; a symbolical message, because whoever sent it was
afraid to write lest it should fall into other hands.

I was so excited by my next thought that I threw myself face downward on
my couch, and laid my head on my folded arms for fear my face should be
seen. For I had just been interpreting the message to mean: bayonet--
powder--fighting going on near, when I felt that no one but Dost could
have sent that message, and its full meaning must be: bayonet, infantry;
powder, artillery; and help must be at hand.

I heard Salaman come softly into the room, but I did not stir, and after
a minute he passed out again, and I breathed more freely. I was afraid
that he might read my thoughts, for I was in so great a state of
excitement and exaltation that I imagined a score of impossible things,
and it was with the greatest difficulty that I could contain myself
sufficiently to look anything like calm, and keep my position on the
bed.

For, after the first glance of light, the rest came quickly enough. I
was right, I felt sure, about the troops coming, and the sender of the
message must be Dost, who evidently would not trust himself to write
again after the way in which his last letter had puzzled me. He it was,
then, who had thrown the packet through the window, and consequently I
felt that he must be somewhere about the palace, if he had not trusted
his packet to some one else.

"No," I thought. "He would not do that. He must be near me in
disguise. The old fakir is somewhere about;" and I went to the window
to look round, for I could lie no longer.

But there was no sign of the old fakir in the courtyard, and my heart
sank as I felt how impossible it would be for him to get there. The
guards would never let him pass, and I was wondering more and more how
he had managed to send me such hopeful news, when I suddenly caught
sight of the men coming back heavily laden with their full skins to
continue pouring cold water on the marble paving of the heated court,
and I shrank away at once, so as to conceal my joy, for I knew now.

One of the bheesties must be Dost!

CHAPTER FORTY SIX.

I dared not go to the window now, for I knew I was right; and it was
impossible for me to be aware of how much I might be watched, while a
look might be sufficient, if exchanged between me and the bheestie, to
draw