The cool breeze was commencing to blow, the sun was declining, and she began to hope that the danger she feared would be averted. With the departing heat of day the Coolies aroused themselves from their lethargy, and commenced to cook their evening meal of curry and rice. Zeemit also lit a fire of charcoal, and taking some rice from her waist-cloth, and begging a small fish from the Coolies, she made some supper in a lotah, or brass dish, and commenced to eat, having set aside a portion for Gordon, who still slept. As the shadows lengthened and the twilight came on, she was startled by seeing, far away down the road, in the direction from whence they had come, a cloud of dust arise. She knew in a moment that it was a signal of danger; that it was caused by a body of natives. In a few minutes this was confirmed. About two dozen men, as near as she could judge, were coming up, three or four of them being on horseback. They could have but one object, she thought, and that was pursuit of the Englishman, unless they were a band of fugitives flying to Delhi; but that did not seem probable, since, if it had been so, they would have been accompanied by women.
She hurried into the house. Gordon was still sleeping. She shook him; he turned over, and groaned. She shook him again, but he did not wake. There was not a moment to lose, for she could now hear faintly the ring of the advancing horses’ hoofs, as they rattled along the road. She grasped Gordon tightly in her arms, and, by a great effort of strength, dragged him off the lounge on to the floor. It had the desired effect, and he awoke. At this moment one of the Coolies entered. He had observed the advancing body, and exclaimed—
“We shall have goodly company on our way to Delhi.”
Gordon had raised himself on his elbow, and being dazed with the heavy sleep, and not realising his position, cried out in English—
“What does this mean? Who has thrown me down?”
The Coolie stood like one who had been suddenly transformed to stone. Then, with a cry, he bounded out of the room exclaiming—
“A Feringhee in disguise, and a treacherous country-woman. Death to them.”
“We are lost,” Zeemit murmured, still shaking Gordon.
But he needed no further shaking; that warning cry had aroused him into full activity again, and he sprang to his feet. And though he did not comprehend the full extent of the danger, he realised that his disguise had been penetrated.