"Never mind," said he, "play on; you shall have as good a reward as I can afford to bestow."
I waited till the noise was at its height to give the jhirnee, yet I had not the opportunity I wished for. The Moonshee sat with his back to the kanât, and to get behind him was impossible: one of the Thugs saw my embarrassment, and relieved it by begging him to rise and advance a few paces.
"What are they going to do?" asked he.
"I know not," I replied, "but you had as well comply."
He arose, and I slipped behind him. "Now!" I shouted; "bring the pan!" and my hand was on the Moonshee's neck. One wild shriek he gave, and fell. His wife had been looking on through a hole in the kanât; she had seen the work, and rushed out into the midst of us, with her boy in her arms. I shall never forget her—never: I shall never forget her wild look and her screams. I tore the boy from her arms, and left her in the midst of the Thugs; I ran out into the air, and the first person I met was Ganesha, his face flushed with triumph, which I saw by the glare of the torches from the tent.
"All is done!" cried he; "they have all fallen. Two I killed myself. Where are the Lughaees? we must be quick."
He ran on; and I stood in the open space before the tent. Parties of Thugs passed rapidly to and fro, bearing the bodies of the dead, which were one by one thrown into the hole. But the singing and music went on as merrily as ever, and looking into the tent I saw my father sitting in the place which had been occupied by the ill-fated Moonshee.
My little charge was crying terribly, imploring me, in tones and words that would have moved any one's heart but mine, to take him to his mother. I soothed him as well as I could, and was going to my tent; but curiosity impelled me to return and see the hole in which the business of interment was going on. I went to the edge; Ganesha was standing by it encouraging the Lughaees; he saw the boy in my arms.
"What folly is this, Meer Sahib?" said he; "you are not going to spare that boy, when we are even now in such danger!—it will be madness. Give him to me; I will silence the crying wretch, and send him with his parents."
"Never!" cried I; "the boy is mine; you may have all the spoil, but give him up to death I will not. Have I not lost a son, and is it not lawful to adopt a child of this age?"