The Adventures of Kathlyn

"They know, and I could not stay the tempest once I loosed it. There,

that is all. That is the battle I have fought and won."

The colonel reached down and offered his hand.

"Ramabai, you're a man."

"Thanks, Sahib. And I tell you this: I love my people. I was born

among them. They are simple and easily led. I wish to see them happy,

but I can not step over the dead body of one who was kind to me. And

this I add: When you, my friends, are free, I will make him free also.

Young men are my followers, and in the blood of the young there is much

heat. My plan may appear to you weak and absurd, but I know my people.

Besides, it is our only chance."

"Well, Ramabai, we will try your plan, though I do so half heartedly.

So many times have we escaped, only to be brought back. I am tired, in

the heart, in the mind, in the body. I want to lie down somewhere and

sleep for days."

Kathlyn reached out, touched his hand and patted it. She knew. The

pain and terror in his heart were not born of his own miseries but of

theirs, hers and Winnie's.

"Why doesn't my brain snap?" she queried inwardly. "Why doesn't the

thread break? Why can't I cry out and laugh and grow hysterical like

other women?"

"I shall take charge of everything," continued Ramabai. "Your

tribulations affect my own honor. None of you must be seen, however;

not even you, Ahmed. I shall keep you informed. Ahmed will instruct

the keepers to obey me. No harm will come to them, since no one can

identify them as having been Umballa's assailants. My wife will not be

molested in any way for remaining at the bungalow."

Without another word Ramabai curled himself up and went to sleep; and

one by one the others followed his example. Bruce was last to close

his eyes. He glanced moodily round, noted the guards patrolling the

boundaries of their secluded camp, the mahout sleeping in the shadow of

the elephant; and then he looked down at Kathlyn. Only a bit of her

forehead was exposed. One brown shapely hand clutched the howdah

blanket. A patch of moonshine touched her temple. Silently he stooped

and laid a kiss upon the hand, then crept over to Ahmed and lay down

with his back to the Mohammedan's.

After a while the hand clutching the howdah blanket slid under and

finally nestled beneath the owner's chin.

But Winnie could not sleep. Every sound brought her to an upright

position; and to-night the palace seemed charged with mysterious

noises. The muttering of the cockatoo, the tinkle of the fountain as

the water fell into the basin, the scrape and slither of sandals beyond

the lattice partitions, the rattle of a gun butt somewhere in the outer

corridors--these sounds she heard. Once she thought she heard the

sputter of rifle shots afar, but she was not sure.