The babu thrust his head out of the carriage window and gazed into the dark for several minutes. "Conceivablee yes, sahib." "Then tell the driver where to turn!" "I could direct with more discernment from box-seat," said the babu, with a hand on the door. "No, you don't!" commanded Warrington. "Let go that handle! What I want to know is why were you so afraid at Yasmini's?" "I, sahib?" "Yes, you! I saw your face in a mirror, and you were scared nearly to death. Of what?" "Who is not afraid of Yasmini? Were the sahibs not also afraid?" "Of what besides Yasmini were you afraid? Of what in particular?" "Of her cobras, sahib!" "What of them?" demanded Warrington, with a reminiscent shudder. "Certain of her women showed them to me." "Why?" "To further convince me, sahib, had that been necessary. Oh, but I was already quite convinced. Bravery is not my _vade mecum!_" "Confound the man! To convince you of what?" "That if I tell too much one of those snakes will shortlee be my bedmate. Ah! To think of it causes me to perspirate with sweat. Sahibs, that is a--" "You shall go to jail if you don't tell me what I want to know!" said Kirby. "Ah, sahib, I was jail clerk once--dismissed for minor offenses but cumulative in effect. Being familiar with inside of jail, am able to make choice." "Get on the box-seat with him!" commanded Kirby. "Let him show the driver where to turn. But watch him! Keep hold of him!" So again the babu was propelled on an involuntary course, and Warrington proceeded to pinch certain of his fat parts to encourage him to mount the box with greater speed; but his helplessness became so obvious that Warrington turned friend and shoved him up at last, keeping hold of his loin-cloth when he wedged his own muscular anatomy into the small space left. "To the right," said the babu, pointing. And the risaldar drove to the right. "To the left," said the babu, and Warrington made note of the fact that they were not so very far away from the House-of-the-Eight-Half-brothers. Soon the babu began to scratch his stomach. "What's the matter?" demanded Warrington. "They said they would cut my belly open, sahib! A belly is so sensitive!" Warrington laughed sympathetically; for the fear was genuine and candidly expressed. The babu continued scratching. "To the right," he said after a while, and the risaldar drove to the right, toward where a Hindu temple cast deep shadows, and a row of trees stood sentry in spasmodic moonlight. In front of the temple, seated on a mat, was a wandering fakir of the none-too-holy type. By his side was a flat covered basket. "Look, sahib!" said the babu; and Warrington looked. "My belly crawls!" "What's the matter, man?" "He is a fakir. There are snakes in that basket--cobras, sahib! Ow-ow-ow!" Warrington, swaying precariously over the edge, held tight by the loin-cloth, depending on it as a yacht in a tideway would to three hundred pounds of iron.