"Pigs of idolators!" muttered one of a group standing on the mosque steps; a group of men unmistakable in their flowing robes and beards.
"Peace, Kazi-sahib!" came a mellow voice. "Let God judge when the work is done. 'The clay is base, and the potter mean, yet the pot helps man to wash and be clean.'"
The speaker, a tall, gaunt man, rose a full head above the others, and Jim Douglas' keen eyes, taking in everything as they passed, recognized him instantly. It was the Moulvie of Fyzabad. It was partly to hear what he had to say when he was preaching, partly to find out how the people viewed the question of the heirship, which had brought Jim Douglas to Delhi, so he was not surprised.
And now the procession, reaching the Dareeba, that narrowest of lanes hedged by high houses, received a momentary check. For down it, preceded by grooms with waving yak tails, came the Resident's buggy. He was taking a lady to see the picturesque sights of the city. This was one, with a vengeance, as the red-splashed figure of the Death-Goddess jammed itself in the gutter to let the aliens pass, so getting mixed up with a Mohammedan sign-board. And the crowd following it,--an ignorant crowd agape for wonders,--stood for a minute, hemmed in, as it were, between the buggy in front and the mosque behind, with that group of Moulvies on its steps.
"Fire worship for a hundred years,
A century of Christ and tears,
Then the True God shall come again
And every infidel be slain,"
quoted he of Fyzabad under his breath, and the others nodded. They knew the prophecy of Shah N'amut-Oolah well. It was being bandied from mouth to mouth in those days; for the Mohammedan crowd was also agape for wonders.
[CHAPTER III.]
ON THE RIDGE.
"A melly Klistmus to zoo, Miffis Erlton! An' oh! they's suts a lot of boo'ful, boo'ful sings in a velanda."
Sonny's liquid lisp said true. On this Christmas morning the veranda of Major Erlton's house on the Ridge of Delhi was full of beauties to childish eyes. For, he being on special duty regarding a scheme for cavalry remounts and having Delhi for his winter headquarters, there were plenty of contractors, agents, troopers, dealers, what not, to be remembered by one who might probably have a voice in much future patronage. So there were trays on trays of oranges and apples, pistachios, almonds, raisins, round boxes of Cabul grapes, all decked with flowers. And on most of them, as the surest bid for recognition, lay a trumpery toy of some sort for the Major sahib's little unknown son, whose existence could, nevertheless, not be ignored by these gift-bringers, to whom children are the greatest gift of all.