"Yes, yes; but go, sahib, pray. I must wake up now. It is too hot here to bear it much longer." In spite of my trouble, I wanted to laugh, but I managed to control it, and rising slowly, I said in a low voice-- "Good-bye, old friend. I trust you, for you are a true, brave man. Tell Captain Brace I will be patient, and that I am nearly well." I could say no more, but sauntered slowly away under the shade of the trees, to find that my guards sprang into sight, ready to follow me, the first one so near that I was startled. I had not known of his proximity, and I trembled for Dost's safety. This man might have heard us talking, and he would of course repeat it to his head. But I could only go on hoping and trying to be patient, and when at last I slowly started back to the tent, and glanced over toward the divan, my excitement increased, for the fakir was no longer seated in the hot sunshine. Where was he? Back in his place by the great tree, or a captive taken away and condemned at once as a spy? I could not tell; I must wait, and my brain was so active that my fears hourly increased. CHAPTER FORTY ONE. I was spared one trouble to add to my others that day, for the rajah did not come. If he had, I fear that he would have noticed my manner as being peculiar and strange. I dreaded, too, his encountering Dost, for, though Salaman and his companions had been easily imposed upon, now that I was in the secret, I forgot all about my having also been deceived, and felt that the rajah would see through the disguise at once. It was then with a feeling of the most intense relief that I saw the nightfall, and felt now that he would not visit me that day. Of course I lay listening that night in the tent, wondering whether Dost would make an attempt to visit me again, and then whether he was making his way back to where he expected to meet my troop, and "Oh!" I mentally ejaculated, "if I could only have been with him." The desire brought with it a despondent feeling and weary loneliness. I was very weak and miserable, thinking that perhaps I should never grow strong again, never mount my beautiful horse as of old. And then I fell a wondering for the first time in my life at myself; thinking what a weak, helpless creature a human being was, if he received a wound, for there seemed to be little reason for my long illness. I had had a blow on the head, and a cut on the arm--that was all. It never occurred to me then that my injuries were such as would have killed many men, and that it was my youth and vigorous health alone which had enabled me to bear all I had gone through. The morning broke dull and lowering. My spirits were quite in the same key, and I trembled when I first encountered Salaman, looking at him sharply, to see if his eyes told tales of any particular excitement.