The religious creed of the Sanseeas was sufficiently simple. "I believe" said one of them, "in Ram (God), Bhowanee, and Sheik Fureed, whose shrine is at Gierur, about eighteen miles from Hingunghat. There we make offerings after a successful expedition. Sheikh Fureed acquired his saintship thus:--he first performed a devotional penance of twelve years, carrying about with him a load of wood tied to his stomach, but that was not accepted: next another, in which he ate nothing but forest leaves for twelve years--not accepted: lastly, his third trip, he hung himself up by the heels in iron chains in a Baolee (a well) at Gierur; then he was taken up and asked what he wanted; he said, to have every request granted; this was promised, and he disappeared. Many people now pray to him for luck." Like the Thugs and the other Dacoits, the Sanseeas prided themselves on the exact observance of omens. They looked upon it as unfortunate to hear the cry of the jackal or the cat, a kite screaming while sitting on a tree, the braying of an ass, a flute, or the lamentation over the dead. It was equally inauspicious to see a dog run away with any one's food, a woman break a water-pitcher, a hare, a wolf, a fox, a chamelion, an oil-vender, a carpenter, a blacksmith, two cows tied together, or a thief in custody. If they encountered a corpse, or if a turban fell off, or the Jemadar forgot to put some bread in his waist-belt, or left his spear or axe behind him--the expedition must be deferred. But nothing could be more promising than to meet a woman selling milk, or any one carrying a bag of money, or a basket of grain, or fish, or a pitcher of water. Nor was it less encouraging to see a calf sucking, or a pig, or a blue jay, or a marriage procession.