"'But they will hang thee, Bijoo.'
"'Of a surety. Proceed.'
"''Tis a shameful death, for the hangman is a sweeper,—some brother to Bhamaraya, perhaps.'
"'Nevertheless, proceed; but promise me that thou wilt trap the lame witch in some pit of hell, Ram Deen.'
"'Fret not thyself on that score, Bijoo; I have already given the matter thought. But why should the sircar hang thee? They—would—not—hang—a dead man;' and I flicked a branch that overhung us with my whip.
"'Thou art right, Ram Deen,' he said, quietly; 'but, lo! I have not slept for many nights, and my thought is not clear.' He then stooped downward, groping in the bottom of the mail-cart, and drew forth one of the heel ropes of the horses.
"Throwing one end of the rope over the branch that was above us, he fastened it thereto with a running loop, and then encircled his neck with a noose at the other end.
"As he stood up on the seat, he asked, 'Thou wilt give me honorable burning, Ram Deen?' And I replied, 'I will be nearest of kin to thee in this matter.'
"'Tis well. Thou wilt not forget thy reckoning with Bhamaraya?'
"But ere I could make reply, the gray wolf that hunts beyond the bridge bayed, and the horses broke from me in their fear, so that I could not stay them till we reached the Naini Tal road."