asleep,
when the cipaye recalled me to my senses. In the far end of the
enclosure a bright light had suddenly shone out, and continued to burn
steadily among the leaves. It was a circumstance highly unusual in such
a place and hour; and, in our situation, it behoved us to proceed with
some timidity. The cipaye was sent to reconnoitre, and pretty soon
returned with the intelligence that we had fallen extremely amiss, for
the house belonged to a white man, who was in all likelihood English.

"Faith," says I, "if there is a white man to be seen, I will have a look
at him; for, the Lord be praised! there are more sorts than the one!"

The cipaye led me forward accordingly to a place from which I had a
clear view upon the house. It was surrounded with a wide verandah; a
lamp, very well trimmed, stood upon the floor of it, and on either side
of the lamp there sat a man, cross-legged, after the Oriental manner.
Both, besides, were bundled up in muslin like two natives; and yet one
of them was not only a white man, but a man very well known to me and
the reader, being indeed that very Master of Ballantrae of whose
gallantry and genius I have had to speak so often. Word had reached me
that he was come to the Indies, though we had never met at least, and I
heard little of his occupations. But, sure, I had no sooner recognised
him, and found myself in the arms of so old a comrade, than I supposed
my tribulations were quite done. I stepped plainly forth into the light
of the moon, which shone exceedingly strong, and hailing Ballantrae by
name, made him in a few words master of my grievous situation. He
turned, started the least thing in the world, looked me fair in the face
while I was speaking, and when I had done addressed himself to his
companion in the barbarous native dialect. The second person, who was of
an extraordinary delicate appearance, with legs like walking canes and
fingers like the stalk of a tobacco-pipe,[6] now rose to his feet.

"The Sahib," says he, "understands no English language. I understand it
myself, and I see you make some small mistake--O! which may happen very
often. But the Sahib would be glad to know how you come in a garden?"

"Ballantrae!" I cried, "have you the damned impudence to deny me to my
face?"

Ballantrae never moved a muscle, staring at me like an image in a
pagoda.

"The Sahib understands no English language," says the native, as glib as
before. "He be glad to know how you come in