The evening was far advanced, and everything around us was quiet. A few fires here and there throughout the camp marked where, at each, a solitary Pindharee cooked his last meal of the day; the rest were already buried in profound slumber, and all nearest to us were still. I stood at the door of my humble tent looking anxiously for the Khan's coming; and at length I observed a figure stealing along in the dusk, carefully avoiding the prostrate forms which lay in his path. Was it the Khan? Yes. "By Alla, he comes!" said I to Peer Khan; "I see him now: and there is his horse behind him, and the Saees leading it."
"Shookur Khoda!" exclaimed my companion; "he has not deceived us. I feared he had, since it is so late."
"Is that you, Meer Sahib?" cried the voice of Ghuffoor Khan. "I feared I should have missed your tent in this cursed darkness."
"Here am I, Khan, and you are welcome to the poor tent of your servant."
"So you have found the wine, eh?" said the Khan, rubbing his hands in glee. "You have not cheated me?"
"By your soul, no! Khan, I have not; there it is, you see, and Peer Khan is gone for the pilao."
"Khoob; by Alla! Meer Sahib, I have fasted all day on purpose to do justice to it; and I should have been here an hour sooner, but I was summoned to the durbar about some trifle or other; and I have kept you waiting."
"And your horse, Khan?"
"Oh, he is here; my Saees has picketed him among yours. I have deceived my other servants—I swore I had a headache and could not eat, and pretended to lie down to sleep, having given them all strict orders not to disturb me. The knaves knew better than to do so; and so, after lying quiet awhile, I stole out of my tent behind, and have fairly given them the slip. I suppose your people can throw some fodder before the animal?"