Back and forth, therefore, he paced with the slow, steady step which can be kept up for hours without fatigue, but with Avery it lasted only a short time.
The strain upon his nerves became intolerable. When he turned at the mouth of the entrance and moved toward the interior, he was sure he heard stealthy footsteps behind him. He wheeled and leveled his pistol.
"Ah, ha, assassin, I've got you!"
But no one was there. Luchman was breathing heavily where he lay upon the floor, and the form that was once the magnificent George Harkins was straight and cold and still.
Then Avery stood a minute and listened. The vegetation was as motionless as the dark ruins, for there was not a breath of air stirring. The night was warmer and more sultry than any they had experienced since their flight from Delhi, but the temple probably offered the nearest approach to coolness that could be found anywhere.
Surely nothing was stirring near him, but peering through the arched way, he saw something move. He stepped lightly forward to learn the cause.
Two Ghoojurs were bearing off the body of their comrade that had been laid low by the pistol of Luchman.
"Take the carcass and be gone," muttered the sentinel; "and would to God you had carried him away before he entered this place to slay one of the best men of earth."
The reasonable conclusion was that Wana Affghar, having failed in his attempt, would not soon essay any thing of the kind again. Thus thought Avery, who continued his walk in comparative peace; but he was in that highly nervous condition in which it is impossible to feel sure of a correct judgment on any question. So it came about that he decided that the grounds for not looking for a repetition of the attempt constituted the best grounds for expecting it, and thus his spasmodic vigilance was resumed.
Though he was repeatedly sure that he saw and heard his enemies prowling around him, there really was nothing of the kind.