Scarcely knowing what she did, but hoping against hope that she might save her darling Kit, Grace, following the directions of the guide, leapt into a shallow ditch, and drew the long grass over herself and the child. 'If they let me live, I will come back to you,' he whispered; 'if not, go on straight to the next village and say that Hoosanee, the servant of the Rajah of Gumilcund, has sent you to his father. He will guard you till you reach the city. Farewell, noble lady!' And he returned to the cart. In the next moment Grace saw the flashing of torches and heard the trampling of armed men in the woods. Kit began to whimper. She breathed in his ear that, if he wished to see his mother again, he must be brave and good, and pressed him close against her breast to stifle his sobs. Then, with a strange composure at her heart, a feeling that the worst--the awful thing to which they had been looking forward so long--had come, she lifted herself up on hands and knees and looked out over the edge of the nullah. * * * * * Armed to the teeth, some of them riding, and others on foot carrying torches, the sepoys came pouring out of the wood. The light fell on the cart, and, with cries like those of wild creatures scenting their prey, they gathered round it. A man taller and better dressed than the others imposed silence by an authoritative word, and with a sweep of his naked tulwar thrust them back, so that they made a wide circle, having the cart in the midst of them. The curtains were down, not a sound proceeded from within them, and the gallant guide kept his place at the bullocks' heads. Her heart throbbing with admiration and terror, Grace watched him from her hiding-place. She heard his voice, clear and strong, as he addressed the leader: 'We are peaceful travellers. What do you want with us?' 'Draw open the curtains of that cart,' was the brutal answer. 'You have Feringhees there.' '_You_ may sin, for you have the power,' said the guide boldly. '_I_ dare not.' 'Do you deny that they are Feringhees?' 'They are holy women, bound under a vow to travel by night to the sacred river. Touch them and you incur the guilt of sacrilege!' The leader laughed out loudly. 'Tell a better tale next time, son of an ass,' he said scornfully. 'We will run the risk and see the colour of their faces for ourselves!' Upon this the unhappy guide began to dance wildly round the cart. 'Let my lord have pity!' he cried out. 'Feringhees or not, they are women and children who have done no wrong----' He was not allowed to finish. The leader pushed him aside, and, amid the jeers of his men, began to feel along the sides of the cart. At his touch the ladies screamed, sprang out, and fell on their knees.