In a few days we arrived at Guneshpoor, and as yet we had no adventure. On reaching the town, the Sothaees or inveiglers, whose duty it is to entice travellers into the power of the Thugs, were sent into the town, while we remained under a mango-grove on the outside. They were absent most part of the day; and when they returned they were eagerly questioned for intelligence. The men who had been sent on this duty were two Hindoos, one by name Bhudrinath, whom I have mentioned before, a Brahmin, and the other a man of inferior caste, by name Gopal; but both were persons of the most bland and persuasive manners, and I was told that they rarely failed in their object. I was, among the rest, highly curious to hear their adventures in the town, and joined my father on his taking his place in the assembly.
Bhudrinath told us that he had gone through the whole of the bazar without success, when he was attracted to a bunnea's shop by a respectable old man, who was in high dispute with the bunnea. He went up to him, and the old gentleman, who was in a violent passion at some attempted exaction on the part of the merchant, immediately accosted him, and begged him to be witness to the transaction, expressing at the same time his intention of having the man brought before the Kotwal for his dishonesty. "The bunnea was very insolent and abusive," Bhudrinath went on to say; "and after some altercation, I contrived to settle the matter by dint of threats and persuasions. The old man seemed highly pleased with me; and it naturally led, after we left the shop together, to a conversation about whither I was going, and who I was. I took advantage of this, to convince him that the town was no safe residence for a traveller, even for a night, and discovered that he was a Persian mootsuddee, or writer in the service of the rajah of Nagpoor, whither he was travelling with his son. I of course alarmed him as much as I could with accounts of the thieves and Thugs on the road, and represented ourselves to be a company of travellers proceeding also to Nagpoor, on our way to the Dukhun, and associated together for mutual protection; and that we always rested outside the villages, as being the safest places when our number was so large. He seemed so struck with the proposal I made to him to come out and join us, that I lost no time in pressing him to leave the town, and I have succeeded. I have left Gopal, who joined us, to show him the way out, and assist him in packing up his things, and I have no doubt they will be here before sunset."
"Barik Alla!" exclaimed my father; "your face is bright in our eyes, Bhudrinath; and I have no doubt, lads," said he to the knot of listeners, "that the old Khayet has abundance of money and jewels, and his plunder will help to see us on to Nagpoor: so if he does not come to us of his own free will, we must even waylay him, and that too in the next march. A short time will decide this; and if he does not come, some of you Lughaees must be off to prepare the bhil or place of burial."
But we were saved the trouble; for the Khayet came into our camp, as he had said, by sunset, and was met at the confines of it by my father, and the two other jemadars. The respectability of his appearance struck me forcibly; he was evidently a man of polished manners, and had seen courts and good society. After arranging his travelling-cart to sleep in, by placing some tent walls around it for protection to his women, he and his son, an intelligent handsome-looking youth, came to the spot where my father and the other leaders had spread their carpets; and many of the band being assembled, there ensued a general conversation. Who could have told, Sahib, the intentions of those by whom he was surrounded! To me it was wonderful. I knew he was to die that night, for that had been determined when he arrived in our camp, and while he was arranging his sleeping-place. I knew too that a spot had been fixed on for his grave, and that of those with him; for I had accompanied my father to it, and saw that it was begun; and yet there sat my father, and Hoosein, and Ghous Khan, and many others. The pipe and the story passed round, and the old man was delighted at the company he had fallen into.
"I thank you," said he to Bhudrinath, "that you brought me out of that unsainted village; truly here is some enjoyment in the society of gentlemen, who have seen the world: there I should have been in perpetual dread of robbers, and should not have slept a wink all night, while here I need not even to be watchful, since I am assured by the Khan Sahib," pointing to my father, "that I shall be well taken care of."
"Ay!" growled out in a whisper an old Thug who sat behind me, "he will be well taken care of sure enough, I will see to that."
"How?" said I.
He gave the sign, by which I knew him to be one of the Bhuttotes or stranglers who had been selected.
"I have an old grudge against him," he continued, "and the time is come when I can repay it."
"Tell me how it happened," said I in a low tone, for the man's face wore a savage expression as he said it.
"Not now," said he, "how can I? I will tell you to-morrow night when we meet in the mujlis: that man is Brij Lall, as great a rascal as ever lived, one who has committed more murders and more villanies in his life than any of us Thugs. But his cup is full, his breath is already in his mouth; one squeeze from me, and it will go forth never to return."
"And the boy," said I, "that fair, fine boy—surely he will be spared."
"To tell all he saw, I suppose," said the man; "to deliver us up at the first place we come to! No, no, Mea, we know better, and so will you one of these days." And he went round and seated himself just behind the old man, who turned about as though he were intruded upon.
"Sit still, sit still," said my father; "it is only a companion: in an open camp like this every one is privileged to hear the conversation of the evening mujlis, and we usually find some one among us who can enliven the evening with a tale, until it is time to rest for the night."
So the old Thug sat still: I could see him playing with his fatal weapon, the handkerchief, now pulling it through one hand and now through the other; and I gazed on the group till my brain reeled again with excitement, with intense agony I might call it with more truth. There sat the old man; beside him his noble-looking boy; behind them their destroyers, only awaiting the signal; and the old man looked so unconscious of danger, was so entirely put off his guard and led into conversation by the mild, bland manners of my father, that what could he have suspected? That he was in the hands of those from whom he was to meet his death? Ah, no! And as I gazed and gazed, how I longed to scream out to him to fly! had I not known that my own death would have followed instantaneously, I had done it. Yet it would have been of no use. I turned away my eyes from them; but they returned to the same place involuntarily. Every movement of the men behind seemed the prelude to the fatal ending. At last I could bear the intensity of my feelings no longer: I got up, and was hurrying away, when my father followed me.
"Where are you going?" said he; "I insist on your staying here; this is your initiation; you must see it, and go through with the whole."
"I shall return directly," said I: "I go but a pace or two; I am sick."
"Faint-hearted!" said he in a low tone; "see you do not stay long, this farce must soon end."
A turn or two apart from the assembly restored me again, and I returned and took up my former place, exactly opposite the old man and his son. Ya Alla! Sahib, even now I think they are there (and the Thug pointed with his finger), father and son; and the son's large eyes are looking into mine, as my gaze is riveted on them.
Ameer Ali looked indeed as though he saw them, and stared wildly; but passing his hands across his eyes, he resumed—
"Taajoob!" said he, "wonderful! I could have sworn they both looked at me; but I am growing old and foolish." Well, Sahib, as I said, I gazed and gazed at them, so that I wonder even now, they saw nothing extraordinary in it, and did not remark it. But no: the old man continued a relation of some treaties the Nagpoor Rajah was forming with the English, and was blaming him for entering into any league with them against his brethren, when my father called out "Tumbako lao (bring tobacco)!" It was the signal! quicker than thought the Thug had thrown his handkerchief round the neck of the old man, another one his round that of the son, and in an instant they were