“I shall lie down too. Go to sleep after you have had some water. I will keep watch till daybreak.”
Just then the old man came back with the brass vessel full of clear, cold water, and handed to Brace.
“I hope the old fellow has not poisoned it,” he said. “I’ll taste it first, Gil,” and he raised the vessel to his lips, took a hearty draught, and then handed it to me.
“Pure water,” he said; and I gladly partook of the refreshing draught, while Brace felt in his pocket for a coin.
“There,” he said, taking out a rupee, “that’s as much as his lotah is worth. I don’t know for certain, but I expect he will consider that we have denied his vessel, and will throw it away when we are gone.”
“Then why doesn’t he think the rupee is defiled?” I said, as the old man received the coin with a salaam, and then hid it in the folds of his turban.
“Can’t say,” replied Brace, making the bamboo bedstead creak as he threw himself down. “Here, grandfather,” he continued in the old man’s native tongue, “keep watch, and warn us if there is any danger. Your caste will not let you betray those within your house.”
“The sahibs are quite safe here,” he replied. “There is no one in the village but their servant. But I will watch.”
“Stop!” said Brace, sharply, as the old man moved toward the door. “Stay here; don’t try to leave.”
The old man bowed.