Chapter XXIV: Wana Affghar of Puneput

Each now touched his ear to the wall, which was a better conductor of sound than the air. As a result, both heard persons talking. They did not speak continuously, and modulated their words so that it was impossible to catch their meaning.

It was quite clear, however, that the strangers on the other side were aware that some kind of danger threatened them, for they used the utmost care. It looked as though they had entered an unsuspected apartment adjoining the one in which the three fugitives took refuge when fleeing from the Ghoojurs, and they were at that moment discussing their situation.

"Now, who can they be?" asked Harkins; "I am inclined to suspect they are Ghoojurs, who have found some secret way into this temple."

"More likely they are refugees like ourselves,--some poor people who have known of the temple, and imagine they have a good hiding place from the mutineers."

"We must learn the truth as soon as we can."

In the hope of finding some spot in the wall where they could hear more distinctly, the surgeon began groping along its face with his hands. He could not see clearly enough in the dim light to discern small objects.

"Helloa! here's something!" he exclaimed, in the same guarded voice.

"What is it?" asked his companion.

"It feels like the knob of a door."

"Maybe it's a door bell; give it a pull and see whether the people are receiving calls," said Harkins, whose high spirits could not always be repressed even in the most critical moments.

"Here is a door-----"

"Good by," called the sportsman, as he saw his friend pass through an opening that suddenly presented itself.

Drawing the handle to one side the door slid to the left, and Avery advanced a couple of steps into a smaller room. Then, fearful of a volley from the strangers, he quickly drew back beside Harkins.

"Did you see anybody?" asked the latter.

"No; I didn't dare wait; there seems to be about as much light in that apartment as there is in this."

Both were quiet, and the next minute whispers were heard, followed by the cautious movement of feet.

"Be careful," whispered Harkins; "there are more wonders in the ruins than are dreamt of in our philosophy; there's deviltry afoot, and we'll get a shot before you know it."

"_Baird, Baird, is that you?_"

The soft voice came from within the smaller apartment. It was low, but its music had charmed Avery many a time. He sprang forward into the room.

"Good heavens! it is Marian!"

She advanced hastily through the twilight, and was clasped in his arms. As Harkins entered, the missionary and his wife came forward and shook his hand.

Suffering and danger drew all near together in this trying hour, and the man whom they had never heard of until within a few days was as dear to all as though his brave devotion had been attested by years of service.

As may be supposed, Mr. Hildreth had an interesting story to tell.

That morning their guide, Luchman, had been gone but a short time, when they were frightened by the appearance of a man who seemed to be a Brahmin fakir. He surprised the fugitives by showing an extraordinary knowledge of every one of them. He said he knew they were fleeing from Delhi to Kurnal, and that a large party of Ghoojurs were hunting for them, believing they carried much riches. Still further, they were aware of the precise part of the jungle where the Feringhees had taken refuge, and would soon come to rob and kill them.

Remarkable as was this statement, Mr. Hildreth believed it, mainly because of the intimate knowledge the fakir showed of his affairs. The Brahmin added that he had received so many kindnesses from the missionaries that he was anxious to befriend them, but the circumstances--as could be readily seen--were such that he could do so only in an indirect manner. He informed them that there was but the one course by which they could save their lives: that was to hasten at once to the sacred temple, dedicated to the worship of Gungah, the goddess of the Ganges who came to restore to King Suguin the sixty thousand sons that had been reduced to ashes. The fakir insisted that though this temple was in ruins, it would not be profaned by any of the roving Ghoojurs, even if they learned the party had taken refuge there.

This theology was altogether different from what Mr. Hildreth had heard since living in India, but he decided to leave the jungle, much as he would have preferred to await the return of Luchman. His anxiety to get away was deepened by several suspicious movements on the part of natives at a distance.

All being in native costume, they were not likely to attract notice when in the company of the fakir, whom they followed across the open plain to the temple, where he left them just as day began breaking. He promised to acquaint Luchman with what he had done, and to be back at the end of an hour.

The missionary feared he had committed a serious indiscretion, but the intense mental strain to which he had been subjected during the past few days no doubt affected his power of judgment.

But the family were no sooner left alone than they disposed of themselves in the most comfortable positions, and fell into a sound slumber which lasted until they heard noises in the adjoining room. It was while they were talking about it that Harkins overheard them, and the discovery followed that all were in the same building, or figuratively speaking in the "same boat."

This was an extraordinary narrative indeed, and the identity of the native who played the part of Brahmin fakir was a source of profound wonder.

Since no one ever could guess, Dr. Avery went outside to where Luchman was on guard, told the story to him and asked his opinion.

The converted Hindoo was never so dumfounded in all his life. He was overjoyed to find that his friends were in the building, but he did not hesitate to say that the missionary had been imposed upon.

"Tell me, sahib, how this fakir looks," said he.

"I did not hear any description of him. I will bring Mr. Hildreth, and he will answer your questions."

"That will be well, sahib; I think I know the fakir."

Mr. Hildreth warmly greeted the guide as he came forth, and the two looked cautiously out over the plain to see if there was any danger of immediate attack from the Ghoojurs. Luchman said there was none, and the two then began talking about the fakir in whom all felt much interest.

"This seems to be a land of mystery," said the surgeon to himself: "and here is one of them."

To the disgust of the young physician, at the moment the conversation grew more interesting, the two dropped into Hindustani, and all that he had learned during his several years' residence in Calcutta did not suffice to afford him an inkling of the meaning of a single sentence.

Avery believed that the reverend gentleman gave information to Luchman which he withheld from the others. The expression on the faces of both showed they felt unusual interest in the question. The native told the missionary who he believed the bogus fakir was, and shortly after Mr. Hildreth walked back through the archway to his family and friends.

Finding himself alone with the guide, Dr. Avery asked:

"What have the Ghoojurs done since we left you?"

"Nothing, sahib; they have been talking together and have moved backward and forward. But there they are, sahib, the same as when you went inside."

Avery looked out and of course saw that things were as stated by the native. The dozen brigands who showed such annoying interest in them formed an irregular group, some of whom were lolling on the ground, in the fervid rays of the sun, while others stood near each other discussing questions in which they were interested, the all important one being as to the best means of dislodging the Feringhees from the ruins of the temple.

While the surgeon was studying the ruffians, he observed a Ghoojur riding toward them. He came from a direction which shut him from view until close at hand. The two sentinels, as they may be called, walked to the entrance of the archway, where they scrutinized the men with the closest attention.

The horseman halted when he reached the squad of brigands, and talked several minutes with them. Then he wheeled his horse around, and rode on a walk toward the ruined temple.

Coming into clearer view, it was seen that he was dressed better than any of the others, and no doubt was their leader. He wore a massive turban, from which descended a graceful scarf of embroidered muslin, and carried a beautifully ornamented sword at his side. His animal was a small pony of high blood, jet black in color, and was caparisoned as gayly as the steed of a Rajah.

It struck Avery that he approached dangerously close before he drew up and took a survey of the temple, as though it was entirely new to him. His sallow face, with the sunken and lustrous eyes, the beak-like nose, and the long coarse mustache curling downward, were so distinctly seen by the doctor that he was sure he could never forget them.

Luchman showed a deep interest in the ruffian, and he drew Avery back a few steps as a precaution against treachery.

"You will remember him, sahib?" he asked, in a low voice.

"As long as I live! Who is he?"

"He is the Brahmin fakir who brought the missionary and his family to this temple; I know his name, sahib."

"What is it?"

"Wana Affghar of Puneput. He is the Ghoojur chieftain who has hunted me so long, because of the Star of India which I carry; he feels sure of me now; he has tracked me better than I believed he could do."