"And forget not, Ajeet, that we are here among the Mahrattas far from
our own forests that we can escape into if there is outcry," Sookdee
interjected. "If the voices are hushed and the bodies buried beneath
where we cook our food, there will be only silence till we are safe
back in Karowlee. The Dewan will not protect us if there is an
outcry--he will deny that he has promised protection."

The Bagrees were already busy preparing the camp, the camp of a
supposed party of men on a sacred mission.

It was like the locating of a circus. The tents they had brought stood
gaudily in the hot sun, some white and some of cotton cloth dyed in
brilliant colours, red, and blue, and yellow. In front of Ajeet's tent
a bamboo pole was planted, from the top of which floated a red flag
carrying a figure of the monkey god, Hanuman, embroidered in green and
yellow.

The red and white bags carrying bones, which were supposed to be the
bones of defunct relatives, were suspended from tripods of bamboo to
preserve them from the pollution of the soil.

And presently three big drums, Nakaras, were arranged in front of the
yogi's tent, and were being beaten by strong-armed drummers, while a
conch shell blared forth a discordant note that was supposed to be
pleasing to the gods.

Some of the Bagrees issued from their tents having suddenly become
canonised, metamorphosed from highwaymen to devout yogis, their bodies,
looking curiously lean and ascetic, now clothed largely in ashes and