The Star of India

by Edward Sylvester Ellis

That morning their guide, Luchman, had been gone but a short time, when they were frightened by the appearance of a man who seemed to be a Brahmin fakir. He surprised the fugitives by showing an extraordinary knowledge of every one of them. He said he knew they were fleeing from Delhi to Kurnal, and that a large party of Ghoojurs were hunting for them, believing they carried much riches. Still further, they were aware of the precise part of the jungle where the Feringhees had taken refuge, and would soon come to rob and kill them.

Remarkable as was this statement, Mr. Hildreth believed it, mainly because of the intimate knowledge the fakir showed of his affairs. The Brahmin added that he had received so many kindnesses from the missionaries that he was anxious to befriend them, but the circumstances—as could be readily seen—were such that he could do so only in an indirect manner. He informed them that there was but the one course by which they could save their lives: that was to hasten at once to the sacred temple, dedicated to the worship of Gungah, the goddess of the Ganges who came to restore to King Suguin the sixty thousand sons that had been reduced to ashes. The fakir insisted that though this temple was in ruins, it would not be profaned by any of the roving Ghoojurs, even if they learned the party had taken refuge there.

This theology was altogether different from what Mr. Hildreth had heard since living in India, but he decided to leave the jungle, much as he would have preferred to await the return of Luchman. His anxiety to get away was deepened by several suspicious movements on the part of natives at a distance.

All being in native costume, they were not likely to attract notice when in the company of the fakir, whom they followed across the open plain to the temple, where he left them just as day began breaking. He promised to acquaint Luchman with what he had done, and to be back at the end of an hour.

The missionary feared he had committed a serious indiscretion, but the intense mental strain to which he had been subjected during the past few days no doubt affected his power of judgment.

But the family were no sooner left alone than they disposed of themselves in the most comfortable positions, and fell into a sound slumber which lasted until they heard noises in the adjoining room. It was while they were talking about it that Harkins overheard them, and the discovery followed that all were in the same building, or figuratively speaking in the "same boat."

This was an extraordinary narrative indeed, and the identity of the native who played the part of Brahmin fakir was a source of profound wonder.

Since no one ever could guess, Dr. Avery went outside to where Luchman was on guard, told the story to him and asked his opinion.

The converted Hindoo was never so dumfounded in all his life. He was overjoyed to find that his friends were in the building, but he did not hesitate to say that the missionary had been imposed upon.

"Tell me, sahib, how this fakir looks," said he.