I was just wishing that I could have been at liberty to mount a horse, and, only as a spectator, go about the town and see what arrangements were being made for its defence, wondering whether it was strongly walled, my recollections on the night of our entry only extending to the great gate through which we had passed, and thinking that if the force advancing were only small, Ny Deen might decide to go out and attack it, when I saw a couple of dark figures in the gateway, which were not those of the guard, and directly after, bending low beneath the weight of their loads, my old friends, the two bheesties, walked slowly across to the other side of the court, where they separated as before, one going round by the far side of the tank, the other coming in my direction. "It cannot be a very serious alarm," I thought, "or matters would not be going on so calmly here." Then I stopped short to watch the actions of the nearest man, wondering whether my ideas were right, or it was only fancy. "It can't be Dost," I said to myself, as the man diligently directed the thin tube of leather formed by the leg of the animal from which it had been stripped, sending the water round and round to form chains of circles on the marble paving. "No. It can't be Dost," I thought, with the feeling of sadness of one who was suffering terribly from his solitary position. "It was all imagination." But then I felt that it could not have been imagination about the message, for there were the forces approaching. Still, that heavy-looking man's sole aim in life seemed to be to make the rings of water on the pavement perfectly exact, and I was wondering at myself for being so ready to jump at conclusions as I watched him come slowly nearer and nearer, his back bent, his head and neck forward, and his shadow cast by the sun on the white pavement--exactly that of a laden camel. On he came, nearer and nearer, but so well-drilled in his work that he seemed to see nothing but the pavement, which glistened in the bright sunshine, as he spread the water in ring after ring, splashing his brown feet and legs at every turn. At last he was right beneath me without there appearing to be the most remote possibility of his being Dost; and in spite of the cleverness of his disguise as the fakir, I gave up my idea, when a voice in a whisper said-- "Be of good cheer, master; there is help coming." "Dost!" I ejaculated aloud, and as the man started violently, I stepped back from the window, feeling sure that my voice would bring some one into the room. I was quite right, for I had hardly left the window when the curtain was drawn aside, and Salaman entered. "Yes. Quick; bring me something to eat." He salaamed, and passed behind the curtain, while I followed, and saw him draw aside the purdah at the next doorway, the momentary glimpse I had showing me a group of armed men on guard, so that, if I had any doubts before, there was room for none now.