Ganesh, the chuprassie, or steward, a man of the highest caste, was, as Tom knew, the only person in camp from whom the Brahmin stranger could accept food.
He turned to him and entreated him courteously to enter.
'My brother will rest,' he said, using the picturesque form of speech of the country, 'and food and drink shall be brought to him.'
Without a word the stranger flung himself down on a pile of cushions. He looked round him boldly; but Tom noted with compassion the wild hunger of his eyes. From under his vestment he drew a cup and platter of silver, richly wrought, which contrasted strangely with his ragged robe. These Ganesh, the stately Brahmin steward, filled, the one with new milk and the other with rice and chupatties, whereupon the stranger, having saluted his host, turned away and ate and drank in a silence which Tom preserved until the meal was ended.
'Is my brother satisfied?' he said then.
'For to-day,' said the stranger. 'But the hunger will return.'
'Come again to-morrow.'
'And the following day?'
'Come the following day also.'
'How long will your tent be here?'