He had gone over this ground before, making himself well acquainted with the bearings of the country, and when, soon after leaving the village, the leaders of the cavalcade swung round to the left, he knew perfectly well that they were going away from Jhansi, and not towards it. This he said to Abdul, but he was vouchsafed no answer. Tired and irritated, wondering what was to be the end of this strange adventure, and blaming himself bitterly for having halted when he was almost within a stone's throw of his goal, he went on the way he was led. It was afternoon when the veiled lady met him, and they tramped on until nightfall. By this time, so far as Tom, who had begun to lose his bearings, could judge, they were many miles distant from Jhansi. They encamped in open ground, there being no village or grove of trees at hand. A tent was pitched for the lady, who had been travelling for some time with the curtains of her palanquin closed. Tom, who felt that she was dealing treacherously with him, and who was haunted, moreover, by a bewildering suspicion that she was something very different from what she gave herself out to be, made an effort, when the cavalcade halted, to spring forward from his place in the rear, that he might speak to her, or at least catch a glimpse of her figure; but the fierce and burly Abdul placed himself in front of him. The vigilance of this man had never for one moment faltered, and it was evident to Tom that he was keeping up the other men to their duty of watchfulness. Thinking it well to appear submissive, he dismounted with the rest of the horsemen, tethered and fed Snow-queen, and joined one of the groups that were assembled round the little fires that had been lighted to cook the men's evening meal. A place was made for him, and he was given a supper of chupatties and dal, which, as he was simulating the manners of a person of high rank, he received in his own bowl, retiring a few yards distant from his attendants to eat it. Then he returned to the spot where he had left Snow-queen, wrapped himself up in his chuddah, and, with his back propped against the tree to which she was tethered, fell into a deep sleep. Tom was one of those favoured mortals who have the gift of sleep. No matter how anxious and harassed he might have been in the day-time, night always brought him peace and refreshment. Afterwards he thought of it as a strange thing. Here he was alone in the midst of strangers. What they wanted with him he did not know; but he knew full well that he had upon his person what, if they discovered it, would tempt their cupidity past any reasonable limit of endurance; he knew also that he had a great stake to fight for, and a hard problem to solve, and yet he slept--slept as peacefully as if he had been in his own little room in the cottage that looked down upon the silver Thames.