"It is the opium, Sahib," he declared; "this fool spends all his time
in the bazaar smoking with people of ill repute. If the Presence will
but admonish him with the whip our slumbers will not again be
disturbed."

The bearer, running true to the tenets of native servants, put up the
universal alibi--a flat denial.

"Sahib, you who are my father and my mother, be not angry, for I have
not slept. I observed the Sahib pass, but as he spoke not, I thought
he had matters of import upon his mind and wished not to be disturbed."

"A liar--by Mother Gunga!" The _chowkidar_ prodded him in the ribs
with the end of his staff, and turning in disgust, passed out.

"Come, you fool!" Barlow commanded, returning to his room, and, sitting
down wearily upon the bed, held up a leg.

The bearer knelt and in silence stripped the _putties_ from his
master's limbs, unlaced the shoes, and pulled off the breeches.

When Barlow had slipped on the pyjamas handed him, he said: "Tell the
_chowkidar_ to come to me at his waking from the first call of the
crows."




CHAPTER XIII