They had halted in a small open glade. The pyre on which the body of Tikaram had been placed was already kindled, and the smoke was rising into the still air and floating away in tremulous waves, like heat made visible. The birds of prey that had been hovering over the litter were sailing away sullenly, uttering harsh cries. The men of both cavalcades, taking advantage of the rest, had tethered their horses and, gathered together in little groups, were lighting small fires to cook their evening meal. On all sides they were hemmed in by the jungle, and, as the shades of evening gathered, strange noises as of shrieks and sobbings echoed and re-echoed through the dense and matted underwood. Tom had gone apart to read the paper. When the strong determination to act at once came upon him, he called up the chief of his little escort and Hoosanee. The latter, at his request, fetched two or three of those who had been with Tikaram. When they were all together Tom addressed them in Hindoostani. He told them as much as he could of the paper that had fallen into his hands, expressed it as his conviction that those he sought were still wandering in the jungle, and asked their advice. Not one of them, not even Hoosanee, but gave it as his opinion that the fugitives were long since dead. If they had crossed the Terai, which was unlikely, they could never have crossed the mountains. The Ghoorkas were for giving up the search in despair. Hoosanee said nothing; his eyes followed those of his master. Tom asked temperately if, in their opinion, there was any fear to be entertained of their encountering detachments of the rebels here. They believed not. Later there would, no doubt, be many fugitives from the revolted troops, but there had not as yet been any English victory of sufficient importance to cause the rebels to despair. If they fled from one place they would join their comrades in another. But jungle-fever was a worse enemy than revolted sepoys. Tom said he knew this, and he therefore proposed that the greater number of those who had come with him and Tikaram as escorts should return to their respective regiments. Two or three of the strongest he would like to retain in case of accident. But even as regarded this he would wish them to judge for themselves. The coolies must go with him to take on the carts with provision for the way and camp equipage, and if his Ghoorka friends would do him a kindness they would take back with them his friend and servant Hoosanee, recommending him to the kindness of the Captain Sahib, Gambier Singh, until such time as he could himself return. He was interrupted by the sound of sobbing, and, looking down, saw Hoosanee at his feet. 'Have I offended my master?' said the poor fellow. 'Have I been indifferent in this search, or does he reproach me with failing in my service to him? If I have, let him speak to me! Nay, let him strike me! I will take punishment from his hands. But let him not send me away from him!'