The surrounding town was no more densely populated than the monastery village. Besides a small army of servants, male and female, in layman garb, there were yellow-robed figures everywhere. Wrinkled, sear-faced seekers after Nirvana squatted in groups on the verandas, poring over texts in the weak light of the dying day. More sprightly priests, holding a fold of their gowns over an arm, strolled back and forth across the barren grounds. Scores of novices, small boys and youths, saffron-clad and hairless like their elders, flitted in and out among the buildings, shouting gleefully at their games.
We turned to the first bungalow, a servants’ cottage evidently; for there were both men and women and no shaven polls in the group that crowded the veranda railing. Twice we addressed them in English, once in Hindustanee; but the only response was a babel of strange words that rose to an uproar. The women screamed excitedly, the men shouted half-angrily, half-beseechingly and motioned to us to be off. As we mounted the steps the shrieking folk took to their heels and tumbled through the doors of the cottage, or over the ends of the veranda, leaving only a few decrepit crones and grandsires to keep us company.
Here was no such welcome as the Irishman had prophesied; but first impressions count for little in the Orient, and we sat down to await developments. For a time the driveling ancients stared vacantly upon us, mumbling childishly to themselves. Then there arose a chorus of excited whispers; around the corners of the bungalow peered gaping brown faces that disappeared quickly when we made the least movement. At last a native whom we had not seen before advanced bravely to the foot of the steps.
“Goo’ evening,” he stammered, “will you not go way? There is not plague in the monastery.”
“Eh!” cried James, “We’d be more like to go if there was.”
“But are the sahibs not doctors?” queried the Burman.
The suggestion set the Australian choking with laughter.
“Doctors!” I gasped, “We’re sailors, and we were sent by Damalaku.”
The babu uttered a mighty shout and dashed up the steps. The fugitives swarmed upon the veranda from all sides and crowded around us, laughing and chattering.
“They all running way when you coming,” explained the spokesman, “because they thinking you plague doctors and they ’fraid.”