Just then I saw a fierce-looking man come from the gateway, sword in hand; the two bheesties went on with their watering, and I heard him speaking angrily, and he gave force to his abuse by striking each man sharply with the flat of his sword. But the blows were harmless, for they fell on the water-skins, and, as soon as he had marched off, I saw the men look at each other and grin. I drew back, and began to pace my room like a wild beast in a cage, for the idea had come strongly upon me that, after all, those packets were meant for me, and the more I told myself that it was folly, the stronger the conviction grew, and I found myself muttering, "Powder and bayonet-- powder and bayonet--what can it mean?" "Declaration of war," I said to myself at last; but I gave that idea up, for war had been declared long enough ago. No. It could not mean that. And yet it seemed as if it might be a symbolical message, such as these unseen people would send. "A message--a message--a message," I muttered; and then the light came, or what I thought was the light, and I exclaimed joyfully, "Then it was meant for me!" Yes; a symbolical message, because whoever sent it was afraid to write lest it should fall into other hands. I was so excited by my next thought that I threw myself face downward on my couch, and laid my head on my folded arms for fear my face should be seen. For I had just been interpreting the message to mean: bayonet-- powder--fighting going on near, when I felt that no one but Dost could have sent that message, and its full meaning must be: bayonet, infantry; powder, artillery; and help must be at hand. I heard Salaman come softly into the room, but I did not stir, and after a minute he passed out again, and I breathed more freely. I was afraid that he might read my thoughts, for I was in so great a state of excitement and exaltation that I imagined a score of impossible things, and it was with the greatest difficulty that I could contain myself sufficiently to look anything like calm, and keep my position on the bed. For, after the first glance of light, the rest came quickly enough. I was right, I felt sure, about the troops coming, and the sender of the message must be Dost, who evidently would not trust himself to write again after the way in which his last letter had puzzled me. He it was, then, who had thrown the packet through the window, and consequently I felt that he must be somewhere about the palace, if he had not trusted his packet to some one else. "No," I thought. "He would not do that. He must be near me in disguise. The old fakir is somewhere about;" and I went to the window to look round, for I could lie no longer.