is!" But some one shouted: "It is a woman. Look elsewhere." And he
passed slowly to the river. Here he flung the brass ghurra far out
into the stream and ran for his life along the bank. No sounds of
pursuit followed him, and he now gained courage enough to form a
plan of escape. Not far from his father-in-law's village was a small
police station. Thither he bent his steps and asked protection of
its solitary occupant.

The man recognised him and asked: "Deputy Saheb, why are you here? What
is wrong?"

The Magistrate told him of the dacoits and of his escape. "Dacoits
after you!" said the policeman and looked grave. "Sir, I cannot help
you. What is one policewallah against so many? If I shelter you we
shall both die. You better push on."

For a time the Magistrate pleaded to deaf ears. But at length his
promises of promotion and reward moved the man. "Come" he said "I
will do my best," and, rising, led the way to his own house. Here
in the inner room was a high machan--a huge bamboo shelf made like
a raft and suspended from the roof and reached by a moveable ladder,
used for storing all sorts of things.

On this machan were some old blankets. "Here, conceal yourself in
these" said the policeman. The Deputy Magistrate needed no second
bidding. He climbed up and rolled himself in one of the blankets and
heaped the others in front of him. The policeman carried the ladder
away, right out of the house. Then he shut the door and returned to
the office.