d the plain, and beside it, some ten to twelve
miles from the base of the foothills, twinkled the white walls of a
rest-house.

"There," said he, pointing, "either to-day or to-morrow will pass the
trader Afzul Khan: and if indeed ye come from Surat--"

His mild eyes, as he pointed, were turned upon Menzies, who broke out
in amazement: "For certain Afzul Khan is known to us, as debtor
should be to creditor. But how knowest _thou_ either that he passes
this way or that we come from Surat?"

"It is enough that I know."

"Either come with us then," Menzies pressed him, "and at the
rest-house Afzul Khan shall fill thy bowl with gold-dust; or remain
here, and I will send him."

"Why should he do aught so witless?"

Menzies laughed awkwardly. "Though money be useless to thee, holy
man, I dare say thy villagers might be the gladder for it."

The hermit shook his head.

"Anyhow," broke in Prior, addressing Menzies in English, "we must do
_something_ for him, if only in justice to some folks who will be
glad enough to see us back alive."

"My friend here," Menzies interpreted, "has parents living, and is
their only son. For me, I have a wife and three children. For their
sakes, therefore--"

But the hermit put up a hand. "Something I did for their sakes,
giving you back to the chains they will hang upon you. It was
weakness in me, and no cause for thanks." He turned his begging bowl
so that it shone in the sun: an ant clung to it, crawling on its
polished side. "If ye have sons, I may live belike to see them pass
my way."

"That is not likely."

"Who knows?" The old man's eyes rested on Bhagwan Dass.
"Unlikelier things have befallen me while I sat yonder. See--" he
turned the bowl in his hand and nodded towards the ant running hither
and thither upon it. "What happens to him that would not likewise
happen if he stood still?"

"There is food at the rest-house," Menzies persisted; "but I take it
you can find food on your way back, even though since starting we
have seen none pass your lips: and that is two days."

"It will be yet two days before I feast again: for I drink not save
of the spring by which you found me, and I eat no food the taste of
which I cannot wash from me in its water."

Menzies and Prior eyed one another. "Cracked as an old bell!" said
the younger man in English, and laughed.

"Is it a vow?" Menzies asked.

"It is a vow."

"But tell me," put in Prior, "does the water of y