Looking in our direction at every step he proceeded and reached the
burning ghat. He reached the identical spot where the pyre had been
erected in the morning.

There was very little breeze,--not a mouse stirring. Not a soul was
within 200 yards of him and he could not expect much help from us. How
poor Ram Lal's heart must have palpitated! When we see Ram Lal now how
we feel that we should burst.

Well, Ram Lal knelt down, fixed the peg in the wet sandy soil and began
hammering. After each stroke he looked at us and at the river and in all
directions. He struck blow after blow and we counted about thirty. That
his hands had become nerveless we would understand, for otherwise a
dozen strokes should have been enough to make the peg vanish in the soft
sandy soil.

The peg went in and only about a couple of inches remained visible above
the surface; and then Ram Lal thought of coming back. He was kneeling
still. He tried to stand up, gave out a shrill cry for help and fell
down face foremost.

It must have been his cry for help that made us forget our fear of the
ghost, and we all ran at top speed towards the ghat. It was rather
difficult to run fast on the sand but we managed it as well as we could,
and stopped only when we were about half a dozen yards from the
unconscious form of Ram Lal.

There he lay senseless as if gone to sleep. Our instinct told us that he
was not dead. We thanked God, and each one of us sent up a silent
prayer. Then we cried for help and a boatman who lived a quarter of a