I paid the money, and dismissed him. Ganesha came to me. "I have been looking at the ground," said he, "and there is a hole near the Moonshee's tent, which has been dug for some purpose or other, apparently the commencement of a well; it will save us the trouble of digging; the earth, too, lies close to it, and will only have to be filled in."
"Have the Lughaees seen it?" said I.
"Yes," he replied; "I took Bhowanee with me; he says it is the very thing."
"Now, Ganesha," said I, "how shall we manage?"
"Oh, do you take the tent-work, and leave the rest to me; I will settle all outside. You have a smooth tongue, and the Moonshee is alone; I will be close at hand in case of anything going wrong; but I do not apprehend anything."
"Nor I either. None of the Saeeses or camel men must escape; there are many of them."
"Sixteen in all; I have counted them: let me see—eight bearers, two camel men,—one of them has a wife,—two Khidmutgars, one female servant, and four Saeeses; how many is that?"——"Eighteen," said I.
"Ah, well, it does not matter; towards evening I will surround the whole; most of them will be listening to the songs, and the rest we must overpower in the best way we can. The night will be dark too, which is in our favour."
I then told him of the horsemen in the village, and what I had done. He knew Hittah Singh, the Duffadar, and told me that in his excursions into the district of Arrah, in Bengal, he had met with him; and that on one occasion, when he had been arrested for murder, this Hittah Singh had got him off, by swearing to the collector that he knew him, and by being security for him to a large amount. "He is a good fellow for a Bhojpooree," said Ganesha, "but requires to be well paid, and you have given him enough to keep him quiet."