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 When Gupta came in, his wife told him of the man's unwillingness to accompany him.

"Nonsense!" said Gupta, "he will have to go. What has happened to him?"

"I think he is ill" the wife excusingly replied, her tender heart full of the man's wistful face and strange manner. Still she agreed with her husband and told the bearer, he must go with his master.

"Forgive me, I have high fever, Ma-ji," he shivered, addressing her by the honoured name of mother, as is the custom of Indian servants in an Indian household.

She turned again to her husband who said: "I know what is in the poor old fellow's mind. He has an idea he will be killed by a tiger. However, tell him there is no danger. I am taking a large number of bearers and he can keep near the palki."

Mrs. Gupta tried to cheer the servant with this information but he wailed: "Ma-ji, I am afraid. Surely a tiger will kill me to-night."

"Do not fear," consoled the kind lady. "Your master will take good care of you. Go you must," she continued in a firm tone. "There is no one except you who knows his ways and can see to his comfort. Now get ready quickly."