kicked me in the ribs as hard as he could
with his naked foot, and, that failing, used his fist.

"Get up!" he said. "Hit me, if you want to!"

Then he turned to the Mahatma.

"Confound you! Take us out of this!"

"Peace! Peace!" said the Gray Mahatma. "You are chosen. You are needed
for another purpose. No harm shall come to either of you. There is one
more cell that you must enter."

"No!" said I, and I met his eye squarely. "I've seen my fill of these
sights. Lead the way out!"

He did not appear in the least afraid of me; merely curious, as if he
were viewing an experiment. I made up my mind on the instant to
experiment on my own account, and swung my fist back for a full-powered
smash at him. I let go, too. But the blow fell on King, who stepped
between us, and knocked nearly all the wind out of him.

"None o' that!" he gasped. "Let's see this through."

The Gray Mahatma patted him gently on the shoulder.

"Good!" he said. "Very good. You did well!"

CHAPTER V

FAR CITIES

The Gray Mahatma led the way toward one of the great square pillars that
supported a portion of the roof.

In that pillar there was an opening, about six feet high and barely wide
enough for a man of my build to squeeze himself through, but once inside
it there was ample space and a stairway, hewn in the stone, wound
upward. Still swinging the lantern he had brought with him from
Yasmini's palace the Mahatma led the way up that, and we followed, I
last as usual.

We emerged through a wooden door into a temple, whose walls were almost
entirely hidden by enormous images of India's gods. There were no
windows.

The resulting gloom was punctuated by dots of yellow light that came
from hanging brass lamps, whose smoke in the course of centuries had
covered everything with soot that it was nobody's business to remove. So
it looked like a coal-black pantheon, and in the darkness you could
hardly see the forms of long-robed men who were mumbling through some
sort of ceremony.

"Those," said the Gray Mahatma, "are priests. They receive payment to
pray for people who may not enter lest their sinfulness defile the
sanctuary."

There was only one consideration that prevented me from looking for a
door behind a carved stone screen placed at the end wall screen and
bidding the Mahatma a discourteous farewell, and that was the prospect
of walking through the streets with nothing on but a dish-rag and a
small red turban.

Howeve