"I am Jawahir Lal, the water carrier. Each day at dawn I water the
garden of Ramabai to pay a debt."

Bruce looked toward Ramabai, who slept the sleep of the profoundly
wearied. A bheestee, perhaps a messenger.

"Go around to the rear gate, which can be opened," said the trooper.

Bruce went to the window overlooking the garden. He saw the water
carrier enter through the bamboo gate, heard the water slosh about
jerkily as the bheestee emptied his goatskin. He watched the man
curiously; saw him drop the skin and tiptoe toward the house, glance to
right and left alertly. Then he disappeared. Presently at the head of
the stairs Bruce heard a whisper--"Ramabai!"

"Who is it?" Bruce whispered in the dialect.

"Ahmed."

Ahmed. Who was Ahmed?

Bruce shook Ramabai. "Ahmed is here. Who is he?" he asked softly.

"Ahmed?" drowsily. Then, wide awake enough: "Ahmed? He was Hare Sahib's
head animal man. Where is he?"

"Hush! Not so loud. Come up, Ahmed; I am Bruce. Let us speak in
English."

"Good!" Ahmed came into the chamber. "To see Bruce Sahib is good.
To-morrow my master's daughter is to be carried into the jungle. The
Mem-sahib is to be tied inside a tiger trap, bait for the cat. That is
the first ordeal."

"Shaitan!" murmured Ramabai.

"Go on, Ahmed."

"The cage will be set near the old peepul tree, not far from the south
gate. Now, you, Sahib, and you, Ramabai, must hide somewhere near. It
is the law that if she escapes the ordeal from unexpected sources she is
free, at least till the second ordeal. I know not what that is at
present or when it is to take place. The troops will be there, and the
populace, the council, the priest and Umballa. I shall have two swift
camels near the clump of bamboo. I may not be there, but some one will.
She must be hurried off before the confusion dies away. Must, Sahib.
There must be no second ordeal."

"But how am I to get out of here?" asked Ramabai. "Guards all about, and
doubtless bidden to shoot if I stir!"

"Tch! Tch!" clicked Ahmed. He unwound his dirty turban and slipped out
of the ragged shirtlike frock. "These and the water skin below. A
bheestee entered, a bheestee goes out. What is simpler than that? It is
not light enough for the soldiers to notice. There is food and water
here. Trust me to elude those bhang-guzzlers outside. Am I a ryot, a
farmer, to twist naught but bullocks' tails?"

"Ahmed," said Bruce, holding out his