The bear-man wondered within himself at their unwillingness to have
him as a passenger. He and the old Brahman made a few remarks to each
other. Then they fell silent.

They were near the end of their journey when the bear-man asked
suddenly: "Manjhi, have we not passed Serampore?"

"Are you the guru of boatmen that you question me?" replied the
manjhi, and then, in a more conciliatory tone, added: "We are going
higher up for a crossing. The tide is strong." The explanation was
reasonable. But the bear-man's suspicions had been awakened and he
was on the alert. The Brahman sat placidly nursing his bag which the
bear-man too had noticed contained money. He had also noticed that
the manjhis kept glancing furtively at it and its owner.

The river crossed, the boat hugged the bank; after a time it came
to a standstill. One of the manjhis jumped ashore with the rope
and secured it to a tree. The Brahman and the bear-man both asked:
"What is wrong? Why stop the boat in this strange place?"

"You will soon know, you will soon see," answered the boatmen and
chuckled over some secret joke as, one after another, each stepped
ashore and disappeared.

The aged Brahman gazed after them apprehensively. Then, placing his
money between his knees, as he sat on the deck with crossed legs tucked
under him, he folded his hands together and bent forward in prayer.

The bearman thought within himself: "Prayer for him, action for