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 "It is no wise thing which the sahib proposes to do. I know that he is brave, but in the hands of the frenzied worshippers there, alone or together, we should fare badly. It is well not to run into needless danger at such a time. Will not the sahib hear the words of Hassan, since more than once has he seen enacted a terrible deed in the streets of Conjeve?"

"I see no reason why we should be afraid to go among the crowd yonder," returned Denviers; then, turning to me, he added, "Come on, Harold, the idol car is half-way up the street!" I rose and followed him, and, as I did so, turned to the Arab, saying:—

"You need not come, Hassan, unless you wish to; we will soon return."

"The Arab does not fear for himself," responded Hassan, calmly. "Where the Englishmen go their slave is ready to follow," and a moment after we were pushing and jostling in the crowd which followed the car. Hindus in their white robes and gaily-coloured turbans; women profusely adorned with jewellery on their arms and necks and in their hair, which was uncovered; and besides these, religious mendicants, jugglers, and pilgrims smeared with ashes, whose clothes were less than canty, all made up the excited throng into which we thrust ourselves.

In spite of the deep bronze which overspread our features, the effect of our prolonged travels, many curious glances were turned upon us, some of them friendly enough, but others expressive of hatred that we should dare to mingle with those whose foreheads were duly inscribed with the sacred marks which betokened their devotion to the idol.

Whether Hassan's recent remarks were caused by a foreboding of evil or not it is difficult to say, but in our anxiety to reach the idol car we pressed on forgetful of him. When we had succeeded in satisfying our curiosity, I looked round, and found that Hassan was not be seen. Turning to Denviers, I asked:—

"What has become of our guide, Frank?" To my surprise, he responded:—

"I thought we had left him behind; he seemed disinclined to come with us, and I have not seen him since we left the veranda."

"But he followed us," I persisted; "he was close behind until a few minutes ago, I am certain." My companion, however, remarked, lightly:—

"We shall see him again before long. Hassan has been in Conjeve before to-day; I dare say he thought that pushing through a crowd of Hindus on such a hot day as this is, was not quite the form of pleasure that he cared to indulge in. No doubt he is under the veranda again by this time, meditating on our folly and his own wisdom."

Denviers had hardly finished speaking when a great din rose in the street through which we had passed. Something unusual had evidently happened, and, connecting the event somehow with our guide, we made a desperate attempt to break through the throng which we saw had gathered round a spot where the street widened to accommodate one of the temples which we met at every few yards in Conjeve. The excitement rapidly spread, and in a few minutes we were hemmed in by a swaying mass of humanity, in which to either advance or to retreat was impossible. Fortunately for us the height of those in the crowd before us did not completely hide the view, and with a little struggling we managed to get some idea of what had happened.

Standing with his left arm behind him close to an opening in the ruined wall of a temple was our faithful guide Hassan, parrying dexterously the savage thrusts which were being made at his body by an ugly-looking fakir, or religious enthusiast. The latter was clothed in a tightly-bound yellow garment, his face—dark and fierce—being partly hidden by the matted, neglected hair which hung down as far as his shoulders. Unlike the rest of the Hindus in the crowd, he wore a long, shaggy beard, to betoken that he had undertaken some vow, and his countrymen were urging him on to the combat, while they were careful to keep themselves out of the reach of Hassan's blade, which flashed as he warily kept the fakir at bay.

"If only I could get through this crowd, somehow," said Denviers, "I would paint that fakir's robe a different colour for him. I wonder what Hassan did to cause all this commotion?"

"Very little, no doubt," I responded. "Hassan is too cautious to offend, wilfully, the prejudices of a fanatic." Then, watching the struggle in which we were quite unable to join, I added:—

"Hassan is giving the fakir plenty of hard work, and the yelling mob can tell that plainly enough. I suppose if their comrade loses there will be an ugly rush upon the Arab, and we shall, possibly, have a few minutes' tough fighting."

"Hassan little thinks we are in the crowd.