iously injured. As I drew
near one or two stones fell on the roofs of some of the houses, making
a great clatter. Some people said that four men had been seen hanging
about, wearing trousers and boots and big turbans; but many tales were
afloat, and none of them very authentic. The theory was that these
men were dacoits attempting to terrorise the place, preparatory to
attack and plunder. Though this kind of brigandage still survives, it
is no longer common, especially in the neighbourhood of Poona, with
its large police force. My own impression was that some larky young
fellows from the next village, which was noted for its rowdiness, were
trying to create a scare for the sake of a joke.

We paraded the outskirts of the place, accompanied by some of the more
valiant spirits, who were armed with long bamboos. They loudly
challenged everybody that they met, and were relieved when the answer
was equivalent to "a friend." Finally we all assembled in the centre
of the village in what, in an English town, would have been the
market-place, opposite to the town-hall. In our case the square was
very small, hemmed in by houses, according to the crowded arrangement
peculiar to most Indian villages. The town-hall was a low shed, in
which, in spite of its homely appearance, all the public ceremonies,
great or small, take place. It is also the custom in villages, amongst
the Hindu population, for the young unmarried men and boys to sleep in
this central _chowdi_, as it is called, which is often fairly
spacious. The dwelling-houses are thus left free for their parents and
sisters. General morality is enforced by the village elders, except as
regards conversation, and concerning that there is unbridled license.
The little market-place was crowded with those brave ones who had
perambulated with us, and the timid ones who had remained inside. In
fact, all the men and big boys of the village were there. Everyone had
a weapon of some sort. A council of war was held. I suggested that
such an assembly of stalwart fellows was a match for any number of
thieves. But they said that men of the dacoit class were armed with
long knives, with which they would slash your legs as soon as look at
you. I replied that with their long bamboos, rightly used, they need
not fear knives. Someone said that a gun was what was wanted, and
asked if I had not got one. I answered that a priest was a man of
peace, and had no need of guns. Another said, would I writ