"Since last night, when you were kind to that poor Brahmun girl who owes her honour to you, and long before that, of which I will tell you another time. Can I do anything now?"
"Hast thou eaten?"
"Yes; and I have enough here to last me two days," and he pointed to a bundle of cakes tied at his back. "I can give you one if you like, when you are hungry."
"I do not want it—I have eaten," said Fazil. "Can I trust thee already?"
"O, master!" cried the man piteously, as the tears started suddenly to his eyes. "Do not say that! I am a poor hunchback, who cannot say fine words, what is the use of my talking? If you mistrust me, bid me go. I will return to him who gave me to you—better that, than be doubted. Enough, shall I go?"
"No, stay," continued Fazil; "I will trust thee. Tie thy horse there, and give him some fodder from the bundle yonder.... That is well. Now go to the Kuchéri; say to the Näik, that Fazil Khan Meah wants the bundle of things given to him by Jánoo Näik, and he is to give it."
"And what if Jánoo is there, master? he will not allow it."
"That is why I do not go myself," said Fazil; "but if there is any difficulty I will come. Show this as a token, and it will suffice," and he took off his signet-ring.
"I will bring them without this, Meah, and yet I take it. Tell some one to mind the mare, else if she hears the horn she will break her rope;" and the man, throwing his coarse black blanket over him, shambled off at a quick pace towards the town. It was but a short distance. Fazil waited there looking at his own horses which were picketed in the street. He had no desire to rejoin his father, who was quietly smoking within. Fortunately, too, the priest rode up; said he wanted a hookah, dismounted, and went into the Mutt. He would be company enough.