o had brought the lamp.

"He is good. But many sahibs would have acted coolly, thus. There must
be a greater test. There must be no doubt--no littlest doubt. Alwa and
the others will ask me on my honor, and I will answer on my honor, yes
or no."

It was an hour before the two of them returned, and looked the horses
over and strolled up to bid Cunningham good night; and in the meanwhile
they had seen about the morrow's tiger, and another matter.

CHAPTER VII

What found ye, then? Why heated ye the pot?
What useful metal down the channels ran?
Gold? Steel for making weapons? Iron? What?
Nay. Out from the fire we kindled strode a man!

THEY set the legs of Cunningham's string-woven bed into pans of water,
to keep the scorpions and ants and snakes at bay, and then left him in
pitch darkness to his own devices, with a parting admonition to keep his
slippers on for the floor, in the dark, would be the prowling-place of
venomed death.

It was he who set the lamp on the little table by his bedside, for his
servant--for the first time on that journey--was not at hand to execute
his thoughts almost before he had spoken them. Mahommed Gunga had
explained that the man was sick; and that seemed strange, for he had
been well enough, and more than usually efficient, but an hour before.

But there were stranger things and far more irritating ones to interfere
with the peaceful passage of the night. There were sounds that were
unaccountable; there was the memory of the wayside tombstone and the
train of thought that it engendered. Added to the hell-hot, baking
stuffiness that radiated from the walls, there came the squeaking of a
punka rope pulled out of time--the piece of piping in the mud-brick wall
through which the rope passed had become clogged and rusted, and the
villager pressed into service had forgotten how to pull; he jerked at
the cord between nods as the heat of the veranda and the unaccustomed
night duty combined to make him sleepy.

Soon the squeaking became intolerable, and Cunningham swore at him--in
English, because he spoke little of any native language yet, and had not
the least idea in any case what the punka-wallah's tongue might be.
For a while after that the pulling was more even; he lay on one elbow,
letting the swinging mat fan just miss his ear, and examining his rifle
and pistols for lack of anything better to keep him from going mad.
Then, suddenly, the pul