Bathurst took it up and carried it to the light. It was undoubtedly,
as he had before supposed, a piece of solid wood. The juggler had
not touched it, or he would have supposed he might have substituted
for the piece he first examined a sort of telescope of thin sheets of
steel, but even that would not have accounted for Rabda's disappearance.

"I will show you one other feat, my lord."

He took a brass dish, placed a few pieces of wood and charcoal in
it, struck a match, and set the wood on fire, and then fanned it
until the wood had burned out, and the charcoal was in a glow; then
he sprinkled some powder upon it, and a dense white smoke rose.

"Now turn out the lamp, sahib."

Bathurst did so. The glow of the charcoal enabled him still to see
the light smoke; this seemed to him to become clearer and clearer.

"Now for the past!" Rujub said. The smoke grew brighter and
brighter, and mixed with flashes of color; presently Bathurst saw
clearly an Indian scene. A village stood on a crest, jets of smoke
darted up from between the houses, and then a line of troops in
scarlet uniform advanced against the village, firing as they went.
They paused for a moment, and then with a rush went at the village
and disappeared in the smoke over the crest.

"Good Heavens," Bathurst muttered, "it is the battle of Chillianwalla!"

"The future!" Rujub said, and the colors on the smoke changed.