"The pagoda, sahibs," cried Me Dain. "It is the only place of stone in the village. Let us hasten there."
He gathered up the leading-reins of the ponies—which had been easily caught—and hurried towards the spire. The others ran swiftly after him, their steps hastened by the roar of a second shot and the whistle of a second heavy ball.
In a couple of minutes they had reached the pagoda and leaped on the platform between the columns which supported the bulb-like roof crowned by its tapering spire. In the centre of the platform was a shrine. Jack glanced quickly round.
"This won't do," he said, "not enough cover here, supposing the dacoits attack us. What's that place?"
He pointed to a new, strongly-built house of stone a short distance from the pagoda.
Me Dain looked at it in surprise. "It has been built since I was here last," he cried.
"Looks just the thing for us," said Jack. "Come on," and the whole party hurried across to the building, whose door stood half open.
"It is a small monastery," cried Me Dain, as they approached, "some rich man has been winning merit since I was last this way. Stay a moment, sahibs; I will enter and see that all is safe." He flung the leading-reins to Buck and darted forward. In a few moments he reappeared, and cried out, "There is no one here but a wounded villager, sahibs. Come on, we shall be safe from the dacoits' guns in this new, strong house."
The party entered through a door formed of strong teak slabs, and Me Dain closed it behind them. They now found themselves in a large, wide apartment, formed of the whole ground floor of the building, from which wooden stairs led to upper rooms.
At the foot of the stairs was huddled a fine-looking old man, whose rich silken kilt and jacket of delicate muslin showed that he was a person of consequence. He had received a severe cut from a dah on the left shoulder, and while Me Dain skilfully bound up the wound, he talked with the old man and learned the story of the affair.