trepidation of what I was about to encounter.

As we rode along, I heard two of the men commenting upon my unusual
silence (for I suppose, I--that is the Indian--was a talkative
officer). "The lips of the Bahawder are closed," said one. "Where
are those birds of Paradise, his long-tailed words? they are
imprisoned between the golden bars of his teeth!"

"Kush," said his companion, "be quiet! Bobbachy Bahawder has seen
the dreadful Feringhee, Gahagan Khan Gujputi, the elephant-lord,
whose sword reaps the harvest of death; there is but one champion
who can wear the papooshes of the elephant-slayer--it is Bobbachy
Bahawder!"

"You speak truly, Puneeree Muckun, the Bahawder ruminates on the
words of the unbeliever: he is an ostrich, and hatches the eggs of
his thoughts."

"Bekhusm! on my nose be it! May the young birds, his actions, be
strong and swift in flight."

"May they DIGEST IRON!" said Puneeree Muckun, who was evidently a
wag in his way.

"O--ho!" thought I, as suddenly the light flashed upon me. "It
was, then, the famous Bobbachy Bahawder whom I overcame just now!
and he is the man destined to stand in my slippers, is he?" and I
was at that very moment standing in his own! Such are the chances
and changes that fall to the lot of the soldier!