The action of setting down the litter, awoke her with a start. Under some trees not far from a village gate, there was the small hut of a Fakeer. Shêre Khan was speaking to the old man, and the troopers were dismounting from their horses. Shêre Khan came to her.
"I have sent for the Josee's wife," he said. "The Syn here says she is a kind woman. She will bring you water and something to eat. We rest here while the men get their breakfasts, and the horses are fed. Fear nothing. Open the litter,—it is cool and pleasant in the shade under the trees," and then he left her.
So it was. She opened the door and looked out. A small grove of mango trees, with a smooth green sward below them, and some cattle and goats grazing there in the cool shade; a boy and a girl tending them looked inquisitively at her, and the girl came up shyly and sat down by her.
"Do you want water, lady?" she said. "I am the Josee's daughter, and those are my goats. I will go and tell my mother you want water. You are a Brahmun, are you not?"
Tara patted her head in assent—she could not speak; and the girl ran away, crying to the lad not to let her goats stray.
By-and-by the child and mother returned, and the latter brought a copper vessel of water and a drinking-cup.
"Here is water, lady," she said; "will you get out and wash your face? Surely, I know you," she continued quickly, as Tara turned her face to her. "Where have I seen you?"
"No matter," said Tara, "I do not know you."
"Perhaps not," said the dame drearily. "So many travellers come and go, and ... but no matter. Shall I cook anything for you? will you come to our house and bathe?"
"No," said Tara; "they will go on presently; I will stay here."