allowed to exchange a word.

Jack's heart sank a little. Did this mean that they were to be
separated? It did. When the great house was once more gained, Jack was
shut up by himself in a room which he had not seen before, and there
he spent the night.

The sun had been up a couple of hours next morning before Jack heard
the sound of any movement outside his cell. Then there was a rattle
of creaking bolts and the door was flung open. Saya Chone stood in the
doorway with the usual band of blue-kilted and well-armed Kachins.

He did not speak, only beckoned with his hand, his malicious eyes lit
up with their usual evil grin. Nor did he speak throughout the
subsequent journey when Jack was led over the track he had followed
the night before. Jack looked round for his father, but no sign of Mr.
Haydon was to be seen. The half-caste ambled ahead on a pony, Jack and
four of U Saw's retainers followed behind, and that was the whole of
the party.

As they approached the edge of the declivity which ran down towards
the swamp, the sound of a loud, measured voice came through the air.

Saya Chone started, touched his pony with his heel, and cantered
forward. Then he dropped back to his former pace as they cleared a
patch of bamboo and saw the origin of the sound. On the edge of the
slope stood a man dressed something like a monk. His head was close
shaven, and he carried a large yellow parasol through which the
sunlight poured, and made his polished skull shine like gold. He
carried a large basket on a pole slung over his shoulder.

Jack had seen such a figure before, and Buck had told him all about
it. It was a _pothoodaw_, a man who, without belonging to the order of
regular monks, still leads a life of prayer and pious works. The holy
man had paused on the edge of the slope to recite his prayers, moved
doubtless thereto by the sight of the condemned man below. Now, as the
little procession arrived, he swung up his basket and moved away
without a glance at them.

Nor, save for Jack, was a glance cast at him. A _pothoodaw_ is a
familiar sight in every corner of the country, and his wanderings from
place to place take him to every nook, however desert or solitary.

Jack, too, soon had eyes for something beside the holy man. They
reached the edge of the slope. Saya Chone turned with a grin and spoke
to one of the Kachins. The latter at once whipped off his turban,
unrolled it and folded it over Jack's eyes, and so the latt