"No, indeed," replied Zóra; "how could I in the fort? But I have seen panthers and bears climbing about, and pea-fowl sometimes came down to the river side to drink, and I and other girls used to look at them."
"Well, you shall see all here, if you like—that is, if Abba does not object. But here no one is veiled, for we are all Beydurs, except a few farmers and weavers, and but seven families of Mussulmans, one of whom is the Moolla; but he is not like Abba; he cannot read or write, and, indeed, is not very different from a Beydur, and he is a capital shot."
Zóra's eyes opened wide at the idea of a Moolla who could only shoot well. "And there is no mosque, then?" she asked.
"No, lady, not even one; there is only a thatched shed which is used for the Mohurrum, which the Beydurs keep as well as the Mussulmans; but you will see all yourself. Now blow thy horn, Bheema," he said to the trumpeter, when they had reached the summit of a slight elevation, which gave them a better view of the village. "Blow stoutly, that they may hear;" and the blast was long and varied, with a peculiarly strange cadence at the close. It was evidently heard, for after a short interval, during which they remained where they were, a similar blast was blown from one of the towers of the gate, on which there was a red flag with a figure of Hunooman, the monkey-god, on its field in white. "Well blown, Krishna," said Burma, laughing; "'tis a hearty welcome to you, Huzrut. If the Rajah himself had been approaching it could not have been more complete; and hark! there are the pipes."
As they neared the village, Zóra saw how prosperous it looked. All the houses to be seen were perfect, and the wall itself was perfect too, and its bastions firmly built of stone. Gardens filled the space up to the wall, among which were some graceful clumps of bamboos, with mango and tamarind trees, with gardens of lemon trees for supplying the dyers at Korikul with the juice of the fruit, as well as the population for domestic use. Here and there, too, a solitary cocoa-nut tree waved its graceful foliage in the air; and as to date palms, they were numerous in groves to the south. Zóra expected to see their new home at every turn, but there were only solitary huts in the gardens, for watchers and labourers.
At last, near a large bright green sugar-cane field, they met the village procession and the musicians, who kept up a spirited but shrill piece of music intended for a welcome, accompanied by their own drummers; and four Beydurs, with their large tambourine drums, leaped, strutted, circled round and round, and performed their most elaborate exercises. The din of the music prevented Zóra from asking questions, and the party could only follow the lord of the place, who rode first. At the gate of the village, however, was the real reception. Pointing out the venerable Syud to all, the authorities, that is, the head man, or Patell, who was not a Beydur, the Kurnum or accountant, a Brahmin, the blacksmith, the carpenter, and many others, touched the old man's feet and Zóra's, and bid them welcome; and they waved trays with lighted lamps in them, and flowers over their heads; and when this was all done, the little procession formed once more, and proceeded through the main street of the village, which was cleanly swept, and the houses ornamented with bright cloths which hung over the parapets of their roofs.
The street was lined with men and women, holding up their children to see the holy man; and Zóra already saw several faces among the women that she knew, who had come to Juldroog for medicine for their children or their husbands; and it was evident she was not forgotten. Every one was dressed in their best, and the whole place seemed what it might be at a festival. Thus they passed out of the eastern gate of the village, and almost close to it, a little withdrawn, was the Tukeea, or "Pillow of residence," which was to be their abode.
It was a low, long thatched cabin, whitewashed without, standing in a small piece of ground by itself, and shaded by a noble banyan tree and others about its precincts. A cloud of parroquets, green pigeons, mynas, and other birds, rose from the giant branches, and flew screaming into the air as the music passed from under the gateway, and gladdened Zóra's heart. When had she not had birds about her? Then Abba was lifted from his pony, and a carpet spread in the shade, and everyone came and bowed before him, and bade him welcome. Even little children were held out by their mothers, that the old man might lay his hands on them. And the Moolla was there, who looked like a Beydur soldier more than a priest, and besought Abba to teach him something. Then the time came at which they might enter the house, which, it must be told in secret, had been fixed by the Brahmin astrologer, as there was none other; but he was present also, as were others belonging to the temple, to welcome one for whom all the country round had respect and affection. Indeed, it was a moving sight to see all these people, strangers in faith and previously unknown, receive the venerable Syud as they did, and pay him honour; and Zóra's heart was stirred within her, and she wept tears of joy as she sat behind part of the trunk of the giant tree and heard women calling to her, "We bless you because you helped the sick and denied no one."
Then her grandfather was led into the house by the Moolla and the Patell, as accepted by the whole community; and Zóra and old Mamoolla followed, and found the place neat and clean and very commodious, for there were three comfortable rooms, that in the centre being the largest. There was a kitchen behind, a shed for the two cows and the goats, and a verandah along part of the front, in which her father could sit. There was a well near the house, where many people from the village came to draw water. Above all, it was very quiet, fitted for religious meditation, and, as Zóra thought, the very place for her grandfather in his present frame of mind. And when all had retired, and the beds they had found ready for them were covered with their thin mattresses and quilts, and the old man lay down to take rest after his unaccustomed exercise, he called Zóra to him, and she went and put her head into his lap, and he said, with a quivering voice, "The Lord has been good to us, my child, forget not this in thy thoughts;" and he lay down, and slept peacefully. Without were the songs of birds; the cooing of ringdoves and pigeons in the great tree; the fresh breath of the sweet air came through the doorway, and the murmur of voices in the village seemed assuring. Without, a bed of purple amaranths and marigolds glowed in the sun, and pretty lizards basked in it, and chirped, or sometimes looked towards the house as if to say, Who have come to disturb us? Yet it was a pleasant place, and full of rest and peace; and she was thankful, very thankful.