Salaman shrugged his shoulders. "Do you know why the fierce beast did not eat him?" "Because he found out that he had made a mistake in striking down a holy man, my--" "Ah!" "Sahib," cried Salaman, hurriedly. "That's better," I said. "No! The tiger did not touch him afterwards, because he was so dirty." I walked away, hearing the fakir whispering wishes of evil against me to the attendants, and spitting on the ground from time to time, while Salaman followed me to my dinner under the tree, and brought me a cool, pleasant draught of lemon and water and some fresh fruit, leaving me afterwards to moralise on the difference between my religion and his, and afterwards to sit dejectedly waiting for my wound to heal, and to hope that the rajah would not come. He did not come, and as I sat thinking, I was obliged to confess that I was too weak to make any attempt at escape for some time yet; and even when I grew stronger, the chances appeared to be very small. "Never mind," I said at last, trying to be cheerful. "Some chance may come yet." But my spirits did not rise, for there was always the black cloud which I could not pierce, behind which was hidden the fate of my friends, and all that were dear to me. The next day I heard that the old fakir had not gone. His wounds were bad, and he had taken up his abode about a hundred yards away, amongst the roots of a large tree. "Have you doctored his scratches?" I asked. "No, my lor--sahib," said Salaman; "he will not have them bathed, and he has torn off all the bandages, and he made me guide his finger along them." "Dirty finger?" "Yes, sahib, it is a very dirty finger. At least it would be if it was mine; but his fingers are holy. They cannot be unclean, and he says that the touch will heal the wounds." "I hope it will," I said; "but, I say, look here, Salaman, have you washed your hands since you touched him?" "Oh yes, sahib, many times," he cried eagerly. I laughed heartily for the first time for long enough, and Salaman looked puzzled, and then smiled. "I know why, my--sahib laughs," he said. "These things are a puzzle. I cannot make them out." "Never mind; only don't let the old fakir come near me." That day passed as the others had gone. Everything about me was beautiful, and I was treated like a prince, but the word "renegade" was always in my mind's eye, and I went to my rest at last as despondent as ever, after another attempt to decipher the writing, but all in vain. It was a very hot night, and for a long time I could not sleep; but at last I was dozing lightly, when I woke with a start to listen. But all was still for a time. The lamp burned with its soft shaded light, and there was not a sign of anything startling, but, all the same, I had awakened suddenly, in a fright, and with an instinctive feeling that something was wrong.