The brigands appeared to grow weary of lolling in the sun, and withdrew to the shade of some trees, where they disposed of themselves in a more comfortable fashion. Possibly they hoped by this withdrawal to tempt the Feringhees far enough from the temple to give a chance for cutting them off, but Luchman had no thought of any such venture.
Since no rain falls during the month of May in northern India, it may be wondered what grounds Luchman could have for hope of the final escape of his friends. The night was well lit up by the bright moon, so that, except for the slight decrease in temperature, it was no more favorable for flight than the day. But within the bronzed skull of the Hindoo a busy brain was at work, and was sure to conjure up some scheme, desperate though it might be.
When night began closing in, there was little change. The brigands were still among the trees, but several came out and ventured closer to the temple, though they took good care to keep beyond reach of the two deadly rifles.
A slight noise caused Luchman to turn his head. Avery and Harkins were at his elbow.
"Now, Luchman," said the latter, "we have had a good rest, and it is your turn to go inside and get some sleep while you have the chance."
The native shook his head.
"I want no sleep, sahibs; I shall take none tonight."
"But you may have to keep awake for several weeks or months," persisted Harkins.
Luchman was as incapable as an American Indian of grasping a jest, and he replied, in all seriousness:
"I will try to get sleep before waiting so long, sahib."