ya_ (my lord), many thanks," said Me Dain, bending
low before Jack. "Your servant thanks you for his life."

Crack! There was a dull roar as of someone firing a very heavy
duck-gun from the forest, and a ball whistled by their heads.

"A _jingal_!" cried Buck. "We've got to hustle round and find shelter.
The dacoits are on us."

"The pagoda, sahibs," cried Me Dain. "It is the only place of stone in
the village. Let us hasten there."

He gathered up the leading-reins of the ponies--which had been easily
caught--and hurried towards the spire. The others ran swiftly after
him, their steps hastened by the roar of a second shot and the whistle
of a second heavy ball.

In a couple of minutes they had reached the pagoda and leaped on the
platform between the columns which supported the bulb-like roof
crowned by its tapering spire. In the centre of the platform was a
shrine. Jack glanced quickly round.

"This won't do," he said, "not enough cover here, supposing the
dacoits attack us. What's that place?"

He pointed to a new, strongly-built house of stone a short distance
from the pagoda.

Me Dain looked at it in surprise. "It has been built since I was here
last," he cried.

"Looks just the thing for us," said Jack. "Come on," and the whole
party hurried across to the building, whose door stood half open.

"It is a small monastery," cried Me Dain, as they approached, "some
rich man has been winning merit since I was last this way. Stay a
moment, sahibs; I will enter and see that all is safe." He flung the
leading-reins to Buck and darted forward. In a few moments he
reappeared, and cried out, "There is no one here but a wounded
villager, sahibs. Come on, we shall be safe from the dacoits' guns in
this new, strong house."

The party entered through a door formed of strong teak slabs, and Me
Dain closed it behind them. They now found themselves in a large, wide
apartment, formed of the whole ground floor of the building, from
which wooden stairs led to upper rooms.

At the foot of the stairs was huddled a fine-looking old man, whose
rich silken kilt and jacket of delicate muslin showed that he was a
person of consequence. He had received a severe cut from a _dah_ on
the left shoulder, and while Me Dain skilfully bound up the wound, he
talked with the old man and learned the story of the affair.

It proved to be the outcome of a blood-feud, one of those savage
vendettas so common among the hill-tribes of Burmah.