The Lalla had risen early, bathed, breakfasted, and packed his saddle-bags. He had looked out several times since morning, but always with the same result as to the sky, which continued of a dull, leaden grey, with occasional rain. There was no wind, it was close and hot, and his host, an old Byragee, who was a lay monk of the Mutt, or monastery, at Kullianee, which the Lalla had left the day before, was persuading him to remain. But the indifferent night's rest he had endured from the venomous mosquitoes, the moaning of a cow over a new-born calf, and other noises from cattle and goats,—from the women, who ground at the mill so early in the house, singing a discordant Canarese song—and, above all, his personal anxiety to proceed,—have weighed against the weather.
"Ah, my poor Mootee," said the Lalla, as he heard his horse neigh, "thou wilt have a hard day of it, I fear, in the mud. How far didst thou say it was, Bawa Sahib?" he continued to his host.
"It is six coss, by our reckoning here, by one road—seven or eight by the other," replied the Byragee, "which, in the coss you are accustomed to in Hindustan, will be ten one way, and thirteen the other."
"And you recommend the longest road, Bawajee?"
"Well, sir, it is as you please. You will have somewhat less mud and stones by the upper road than by the lower—that is all."
"Ah, friend," continued the Lalla, as we shall call him, "four coss more at the end of a hard day is not pleasant, and so the less the better. Let me see; here is my route. Ah, Kinny, little and great; I suppose I can rest at either if I like, though I should prefer getting on to the worthy Fathers' Mutt at Allund."
"Certainly," replied the old man; "but do not stop at Kinny, if you can help; and, above all, do not shelter yourself at the temple on the hill, under the 'Burr' tree. Ah, yes, there will be heavy rain to-day, Lallajee, for it is so hot," he continued, looking up at the clouds, now deepening into fringes of black here and there; "you had better stay."
"No, Bawa, I must go on; and if it rains I can't help it. But about the tree," the Lalla continued; "I suppose there are sprites and devils in it as usual; and, to say the truth, I am not afraid of them. A man that always lives among soldiers, you know, gets brave."
"Indeed," returned the Byragee dryly. "O, of course! But take my advice, and when you change guides at Kinny, ask them to send you by the south road; it's—it's the best, and some bad places are avoided. But here is the Patel," he added, as that functionary, emerging from his doorway opposite, with a striped blanket over his head and shoulders, saluted the Lalla with a loud "Numascar Maharaj!" "He will direct the guide himself, Lallajee, which will insure a speedy and safe journey."
They followed the Patel through the village, which, under the steadily increasing rain, looked sufficiently wretched to deter any one from staying, who had not urgent necessity for doing so. This was not the Lalla's predicament; and he now unfastened a large thick felt travelling-cloak from the pommel of his cloth saddle, put it over his head, and wrapped it around him so as to cover his legs, which were protected by long, soft, Persian riding-boots.