Instead of appearing in the gardens that evening, Major Keeling rode out, accompanied only by an orderly, to Sheikhgarh. He had never met the Sheikh-ul-Jabal face to face since the day of the eclipse and of his triumphant vindication, but important pieces of information had come to him several times by strange messengers, testifying to the friendliness of the recluse. Curious to relate, the destruction of the marvellous legend which had grown up about the supposed identity of the two men seemed to have had little or no effect. The dwellers on the border and the tribesmen alike possessed a strong love of the miraculous, and resented the attempt to deprive them of a wonder. Taking refuge in the fact that only a very few people, and most of those Europeans, had seen Major Keeling and the Sheikh side by side, they maintained with obstinate pertinacity their original theory that the one man led a double existence--as British commandant by day and head of the Brotherhood of the Mountains by night. From this belief nothing could move them, and as the result tended to the peace of the border, their rulers had left off trying to convince them against their will. It is to be feared that Ismail Bakhsh, the orderly, foresaw a large increase of credit to himself from this journey, by the unconcealed joy with which he entered upon it; and yet, marvellous as were the tales he told on his return, his experiences were confined to remaining with his horse at the point where visitors to the fortress were first challenged. To Major Keeling’s astonishment, no attempt was made to blindfold him on this occasion, the guards saying that they had orders from the Sheikh to admit Kīlin Sahib freely whenever he might come, and he rode with them to the gate of the fortress, noticing the care with which the place was defended. This time the Sheikh came to meet him at the entrance, and taking him up to the room over the gateway, possibly from fear of eavesdroppers in the great hall, sent away all his attendants as soon as the proper salutations had passed. He seemed anxious, and was evidently expecting news of importance. “There is no message from Nalapur--no outbreak?” he asked eagerly, as soon as they were alone. “I have heard nothing,” answered Major Keeling in surprise. “What news should there be?” “It is well. Yet there must be news soon. The Amir and Gobind Chand are, as it were, crossing a gulf by a rope-bridge--one false step means destruction. But they will not return to firm ground.” “But you sent me word that the Sardars refused to stand their exactions and oppression any longer, and that they had been obliged to promise to meet them, and inquire into their grievances.” “True, and the assembly is to meet this week; but what will follow? Are Wilayat Ali and the Vizier men who will render back the gains they have extorted? Not so; they will divert the minds of the Sardars by making war upon one of their neighbours. And which neighbour will that be?”