"But first," cooed Ahmed, "he shall wear out the soles of his pig's feet in the treadmill. It is written. I am a Mohammedan. Yet sometimes these vile fakirs have the gift of seeing into the future. And me has seen …" He paused.
"Seen what?" demanded Bruce.
"I must not put false hopes in your hearts. But this I may say: Trials will come, bitter and heart burning: a storm, a whirlwind, a fire; but peace is after that. But Allah uses us as his tools. Let us haste!"
"And I?" said Ramabai, sending a piercing glance at Ahmed.
But Ahmed smiled and shook his head. "Wait and see, Ramabai. Some day they will call you the Fortunate. Let us hurry. My Mem-sahib waits."
"What did this fakir see?" whispered Bruce as he donned his burnoose again.
"Many wonderful things; but perhaps the fakir lied. They all lie. Yet … hurry!"
The quartet passed out of the city unmolested. Ramabai's house was supposed to be under strict surveillance; but the soldiers, due to largess, were junketing in the bazaars. Shortly they came up to two elephants with howdahs. They were the best mannered of the half dozen owned or rented by Colonel Hare. Mahouts sat astride. Rifles reposed in the side sheaths. This was to be no light adventure. There might be a small warfare.
Pundita flung her arms around Ramabai, and he consoled her. She was then led away to the colonel's camp.
"Remember," Ramabai said at parting, "she saved both our lives. We owe a debt."