and gold cover slipped from her knee
to the grass. It was much easier to go to sleep than to read William
Morris. What a long time Dad and the boys were, doctoring Derrimut! It
was certainly dull.

A quick bark from Tait startled her. The collie had jumped up, and was
bristling with wrath at an unusual spectacle coming through the trees
towards her--a tall man, with a face of dusky bronze, surmounted by a
pink turban. His face was working angrily, and he muttered as he
walked, slowly, as if the pack on his shoulder were heavy. When Tait
barked he started for a moment, but then came on steadily--a collie is
rarely as formidable as an Irish terrier.

Norah paled a little. She was not timid, but no Australian girl takes
naturally to an encounter with a Hindu and there was no doubt that this
man was in a very bad temper. The place was lonely, too, and out of
sight of the house, even if she had not been painfully conscious that
there was not a man on the place should she need help. Still, there was
nothing to be gained by running. She backed against the tree, keeping
one hand on Tait's collar as the man came up.

"What do you want?"

He stopped, and the pack slipped to the grass. Then he broke into a
flood of rapid speech in his own tongue, gesticulating violently;
occasionally indicating the house with a sweep of his hand in that
direction. As he talked he worked himself up to further wrath--his voice
rose almost to a shout sometimes, and his face was not pleasant to see.
Once or twice he held his left hand out, and Norah saw that it was
bandaged.

For a minute or two she was badly frightened. Then, watching him, she
suddenly came to the conclusion that she had nothing to fear--that he
was telling her something he wanted her to know. She listened, trying
hard to catch some word in the flood of fluent foreign speech, and
twice she thought she made out the name of Ram Das. Then he finished
abruptly with almost the one word of Hindustani she knew, since it was
one the old hawker had taught her. "SUMJA," ("Do you understand?") he
hurled at her.

Norah shook her head.

"No, I don't 'SUMJA,'" she said: but her tone was friendly, and some of
the anger melted from the Indian's face, and was succeeded by a quick
relief. "Can't you speak English? You know Ram Das--Ram Das?" she
repeated, hoping that the name might convey something to him. To her
immense relief, the effect was instantaneous.

"Know Ram Das," said the man,