The daily morning journal and courier., 1898-06-15

caution to give me. He looked at Nag ho, who was filling a water vessel from a chatty at the further end of the veranda-
 :" That servant of yours-have you had him long?' he asked. My stew ard tells me that he is hill man by birth, that he talks the argot of the Indian thieves guilds, and he carries a tulwar. Do you know that you can trust him.?
 "This was news to me about Nagho. had hired him two months before in Calcutta. He had come we'll recom- mended and had proved capable ser want. I did not like the idea that he should have carried tulwar unknown l to me. The tulwar let me explain, is | the wide-bladed knife which the men of the hill tribes use so effectively in | fighting, welding it at close quarters or | throwing it. With his tulwar, a hill | man can cut off the branch of tree | twenty paces away or lop a mans arm | from his body. I made up my mind that I would find out more about Nagho be- | fore I took him with me on another | trip, but to-day there was nothing that I could well do in the matter.
 | T think the Hindoo is all right I l said to Redvon. I'll have my eye on him, though. Good-by. Hope I'll see you at Baghra next week.
 we shook hands, and the four bear CTS of the jalanquin trotted away with me at four-n1ile- an-h hour gait, with Nagho and two relay bearers follow l ing At Charpore, where we stopped q few minutes to rest, the bearers got hold of a report about a tiger which was said to have killed a man or two I lately on the road to Baghra, and when | they started on it was with little of l the willingness that they had shown in | the beginning. We had got about four | miles beyond Charpore when we met crowd of grass cutters coming on the l run for the village, and they shouted | Tiger! Tiger! as they came near us. 1 | managed to find out from them that no l one had been hurt, but that one of l them thought that he had seen tiger. | That was enough for my six palanquin
 bearers. They set the palanquin down
 and joined the grass cutters in their run for the village, leaving me with Nagho in the jungle.
 T reckoned that 1t was about ten miles further to Baghra, and decided that would walk there rather than l turn back. I spead my umbrella to protect me from the sun, and started
 along the path, with Nagho following, carrying the satchel. It was rough
 road, miry in places. I had to stop of ten to rest so as not to be overcome by heat and darkness fell before we had
 made third of the remaining distance | to Baghra. But I plodded on in the darkness, feeling rather than seeing my way, and hoping that nearer Baghra the road would improve. I was begin- ming pretty thoroughly to distrust l Nagho. There had come an unpleasant change of expression In his face since the palanauin men had left us, and I did not like the furtive look In his eyes which I had caught several times in turning suddenly toward him. Now that darkness had fallen, carried my revolver in my hand, quite as much on his account as on the chance of falling in with @ tiger or leopard
 "I had ordered him to walk ahead, which command he obeyed sulkily. He was walking about thirty feet in ad vance of me when he turned suddenly round just as my foot ripped against tree root, sending me sprawling to the ground. As fell something whiz- zed above my head and I heard leaves | and twigs falling far back of me down the road. It was Nagho's tulwar, and but for my lucky tumble 1t would have
 split my skull as neatly as you please. The Hindoo ran as soon as he saw that
 his knife had missed, taking the satchel
 with him. I sent three shots after him
 from the ground, then got up and start
 ed on an easy pace, for there was no
 hope of my overtaking the Hindoo for,
 leaving the darkness out of the ques-
 ton, he could have outstripped me on
 such a road two to one. My only hope | of recovering the satchel and money
 and bringing him to punishment was in
 getting to Baghra and setting the na-
 tive police on his trail
 'It soon became clear to me that I
 should not get to Baghra that night.
 The air was horribly hot and humid
 and the road got worse as I went on.
 could feel the jungle fever clutching
 at me In the miasma that rose from
 the moist ground, but it was better to
 chance that than risk falling from heat
 and fatigue. I had rested myself un-
 der tree by the roadside, and had be-
 gun to nod with drowiness, when the
 roar of tiger somewhere off in the
 jungle gave a new turn to my thoughts and I got up and stumbled on. Just
 as the tiger roared again I saw a
 smouldering fire in a clear off to the
 right. It was an even chance whether
 1t meant a camp of wood cutters or a
 rendezvous of dacoits, but turned off
 the road and approached it. Only one
 man was by the fire-an old white beared man seated cross-legged on a
 mat and I saw that it was the fakir
 who had been at Redvon's bungalow , the day before. Here in the jungle he was sitting, absorbed in contemplation
 as calmly as if such things as tiger or
 jungle fever did not exist. Two cobras in a basket by his side reared their
 heads and hissed as I came near, but
 the fakir did not raise his eyes until , I stood before him. Then he looked at me without the slightest sign of sur prise and motioned that should seat myself opposite him.
 CT expected you he said, in Hin- dostance. You will remain here until the morrow