Before they had composed themselves to sleep, a stranger entered the cave, and looking round him for a moment, suddenly made his retreat. He was a Mahomedan. His appearance gave considerable uneasiness to the Hindoos. They began to fear the proximity of a foe, and were neither in sufficient force nor properly armed to repel aggression from a superior or even from an equal number. Jaya was not aware of what had passed, but it was remarked that the stranger’s attention had been particularly directed towards the hackery. The King of Delhi’s troops were known to be in the neighbouring province, which he had lately subdued, and a surprise was seriously apprehended. A man was sent forth as a scout, to bring word if strangers were approaching the cavern, in order that the Hindoo travellers might have timely notice, and thus secure their retreat. The man had not been absent above a few minutes when he ran breathlessly back with the alarming intelligence that a detachment of Mahomedan troops was within a hundred yards of the cave. The information was instantly given to the unhappy Rajpootni, who calmly ordered the oxen to be yoked to the vehicle into which she had retired for the night, and declared her intention of immediately resuming her journey. “Mahomedans are men,” she said, “and will not molest a woman. Let us proceed; they no doubt seek a place of refuge after the storm. We will resign this chamber to their convenience, since the Hindoos and the despisers of their gods cannot lie down together on the same floor.” “But they are troops of the enemy, lady,” said the leader of the escort, “and will probably force us to make our beds beneath the same shelter with the profaners of our altars.” “We are under the protection of One,” said Jaya solemnly, “to whom mortal might is as the spider’s web against the fierce rush of the tempest. If they use violence, let us trust to Pollear, the Hindoo traveller’s god, who will interpose on our behalf, and baffle their wicked designs towards those who seek his protection and pay him homage.” The lovely Hindoo had yet to learn that there was just as much divinity in her venerated Pollear, as there was truth in the factitious oracles of the prophet of Mecca, venerated by her enemies: but with a calm affiance in the protection of a very unsightly stone image, daubed with red ochre, and often stuck up by the road-side to court the homage of half-crazy devotees, she awaited the entrance of the expected enemy. She was not kept long in suspense; for scarcely had she closed her lips after expressing her confidence in the protection of one of the ugliest gods of her tribe, than a numerous detachment of Alla-ood-Deen’s troops entered the cavern.