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Updated: June 11, 2025
It would be a matter for the gods to decide." "Are you really human beings?" asked Kathlyn, her lips dry. "Can you possibly commit such a dreadful crime against one who has never harmed you, who asks for nothing but the freedom to leave this country?" Pundita secretly caught Kathlyn's hand and pressed it. "Once more!" said Umballa, his compassion touched for the first time.
She was really the rightful heir to this crown; but her forbears had legally foresworn. Ah! the Colonel Sahib's camp. Good! He knew now that in Kathlyn's escape he had the man Ahmed to reckon with. Presently. "She is there, Durga Ram." "And what more?" ironically. His coolness caused her some uneasiness. Had he, by means unknown to her, signed to the guards to follow?
This ominous silence awoke the old terror in Kathlyn's heart far more than oral threats would have done. There would be reprisal, something finished in cruelty. "My dear, my dear!" She ran over to her father and flung her arms about him, supporting him and mothering him. An hour passed. "All in, Kit, all in; haven't the strength of a cat.
But Kathlyn's curiosity the next morning neutralized the advantage gained. A group of masked dancers, peripatetic, was the cause. Confident that they had outstripped pursuit, she saw no reason why she should not witness the dancing.
God's curse on all these worthless stones men call guns! . . . There, he's got her! Not a shell left! Kit! Kit!" The colonel broke down and cried like a child. As for Bruce, hot irons could not have wrung a tear from his eyes; but Kit, in the hands of that black devil again! "Colonel," said Bruce, "I'd going to get some cartridges." He realized then that Kathlyn's future depended upon him alone.
They reasoned that if an old man was worth three bags of rupees, two young people might naturally be worth twice as much. And besides, being tigers, they had tasted blood. A shout caused Bruce to turn. Instantly he raised his rifle, and pulled the trigger. The result was merely a snap. The gun had not been loaded. He snatched Kathlyn's rifle, but this, too, was useless.
Yes, the English would come some day, when there would be enough money to warrant it. The chief mahout purchased for Kathlyn a beautiful saree, or veil, which partially concealed her face and hair. "Chalu!" he said, touching Kathlyn's shoulder, whenever she lagged, for they had dispensed with the litter, "Go on!" She understood.
What with Ahmed's disclosures and Kathlyn's advice she knew that she was nothing more than a helpless pawn in this oriental game of chess. At any moment she might be removed from the board. She became tense again. She heard the slip-slip of sandals In the corridor, a key turn in the lock. The door opened, and in the dim light she saw Umballa. He stood by the door, silently contemplating her.
He presently slid back into his slimy bed; a few yellow bubbles, and he was gone. Kathlyn's heart became suddenly and unaccountably swollen with rage; she became primordial; she wanted to hurt, maim, kill. Childishly she stooped and picked up heavy stones which she hurled into the water. She would live, live, live; she would live to forget this oriental inferno through which she was passing.
The premier holy man, satisfied that he understood Kathlyn's gestures, turned to the justly angered villagers and explained that with his aid their priestess would, in five suns, recreate Vishnu in all his beauty. Instantly the villagers prostrated themselves. "Poor things!" murmured Kathlyn. The holy men sent the natives away, for it was not meet that they should witness magic in the making.
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