le,
to learn the intentions of the enemy. However much my figure might have
resembled that of the Pitan, and, disguised in his armor, might have
deceived the lynx-eyed Mahrattas, into whose camp I was about to plunge,
it was evident that a single glance at my fair face and auburn beard
would have undeceived the dullest blockhead in Holkar's army. Seizing,
then, a bottle of Burgess's walnut catsup, I dyed my face and my hands,
and, with the simple aid of a flask of Warren's jet, I made my hair
and beard as black as ebony. The Indian's helmet and chain hood covered
likewise a great part of my face and I hoped thus, with luck, impudence,
and a complete command of all the Eastern dialects and languages, from
Burmah to Afghanistan, to pass scot-free through this somewhat dangerous
ordeal.

I had not the word of the night, it is true--but I trusted to good
fortune for that, and passed boldly out of the fortress, bearing the
flag of truce as before; I had scarcely passed on a couple of hundred
yards, when lo! a party of Indian horsemen, armed like him I had just
overcome, trotted towards me. One was leading a noble white charger, and
no sooner did he see me than, dismounting from his own horse, and giving
the rein to a companion, he advanced to meet me with the charger; a
second fellow likewise dismounted and followed the first; one held
the bridle of the horse, while the other (with a multitude of salaams,
aleikums, and other genuflexions), held the jewelled stirrup, and
kneeling, waited until I should mount.

I took the hint at once: the Indian who had come up to the fort was a
great man--that was evident; I walked on with a majestic air, gathered
up the velvet reins, and sprung into the magnificent high-peaked saddle.
"Buk, buk," said I. "It is good. In the name of the forty-nine Imaums,
let us ride on." And the whole party set off at a brisk trot, I keeping
silence, and thinking with no little trepidation of what I was about to
encounter.

As we rode along, I heard two of the men commenting upon my unusual
silence (for I suppose, I--that is the Indian--was a talkative officer).
"The lips of the Bahawder are closed," said one. "Where are those birds
of Paradise, his long-tailed words? they are imprisoned between the
golden bars of his teeth!"

"Kush," said his companion, "be quiet! Bobbachy Bahawder has seen the
dreadful Feringhee, Gahagan Khan Gujputi, the elephant-lord, whose sword
reaps the harvest of death; there i