I will shelter them. My wife and daughter will nurse the sick one. They
will be in the women's chamber, and my servants will not know that there
is a stranger there. I believe that they would be faithful, but one who
knows nothing can tell no tales. On the other side of the wood there is a
shed. It is empty now, and none go near it. The English sahibs can live
there, and each day I will bring them food. When their sister is well they
can go on again."

Ned translated the old man's words, and Kate, who was kneeling by Rose,
caught his hand and kissed it in her gratitude. He patted her head and
said, "Poor child!"

"How are we to carry Rose? I don't think she can walk," Kate asked.

The farmer solved the difficulty by motioning them to stay where they
were. He then went off, and in ten minutes returned, bearing a dried
bullock's skin. On this Rose was laid. The Hindoo took the two ends at her
feet, the boys each one of those by her head, and then, slung as in a
hammock, Rose was carried to the house, where the wife and daughter of
their host, prepared by him for what was coming, received them with many
expressions of pity, and she was at once carried into the inner room. The
farmer then placed before the boys two bowls of milk and some freshly made
chupatties, and then gave them some food for the day. With an expression
of fervent gratitude to him, and a kiss from Kate, who came out to tell
them that Rose would be well nursed and cared for, the boys started for
the hut in the direction the Hindoo pointed out to them. It was a small
building, and had apparently been at some time used as a cattle shed. The
floor was two feet deep in fodder of the stalks of Indian corn. Above was
a sort of rough loft, in which grain had been stored.