"Yes, Meer Sahib; my home is at Beeder, whither I will accompany you; the city is no longer safe for me; my life would be forfeited were I ever to enter it again, and fall in with that prince of devils, Nusrut Ali Khan, whose house is now dishonoured, and whose beard we have spat upon."
"Drive on," I exclaimed to Fazil; "go as fast as you can; we must reach Puttuncherroo before nightfall."
The road from the durgah, after passing the tank upon which it was situated, led through a wild pass; piles of rocks frowned over us, and the road was at times so narrow that the cart could scarcely proceed. "A rare place for a little work," said I to Peer Khan, as we reached a low barrier-wall thrown across the road, and pierced with holes for musketry; "many a wild deed has been done here in times past, I'll warrant."
"They tell queer stories of the place," he replied; "and we have used it ourselves in some of our late expeditions from the city. There lie the seven Bunneas you heard of," and he pointed out a remarkable rock not far from the road. "A sad business we had with the grave; it was all rock underneath, and the bodies were hardly covered; but who asks about them in this country? Why, as we accompanied the travellers, we saw lying in this very pass the bodies of two men who had been murdered and dreadfully mangled."
"Well," said I, "we have left our marks behind us at any rate, and all things considered, we have been lucky. It matters not if we get no more bunij all the way to Hindostan."
"We have enough to make us comfortable for some years," said he, "nevertheless one's hand gets out of practice, and you are but young at the work; the more you have for a few years to come, the better."
We reached Puttuncherroo late in the evening, and, to my inexpressible joy, found my father and the whole band safely arrived, and comfortably encamped under a large banian tree, by which was a Fakeer's tomb. One of our small tents had been pitched for Azima, and after seeing her settled for the night I joined my father.
"You are a lucky fellow," said he, when I had told him of all my success; "I have been in anxious suspense about you, especially when the evening set in and you came not; but now there is no danger, we are once again in the country and the roads are our own. And now tell me, what is your new bride like? is she as handsome as Zora?"
"She is quite as handsome," said I; "the full moon is not more beautiful; she is tender in her love and of an affectionate and kind disposition: you must see her to-morrow; she is now fatigued with travel."