d I.

"Achha, sahib," and he strode to the well and lowered his pail by the
rope. The priest looked intently at him as he shook the rope to turn the
bucket over and let it fill; then he began to pull. The bucket seemed to
be caught. He jerked, and then bent his whole weight back, drawing the
rope across the edge of the brickwork. The thing was immovable. He
seemed astonished and looked down into the well, thinking the pail was
caught in a stone. I could not resist the temptation to go down and
inspect the thing. No. The bucket was full and lying in the middle of
the round sheet of water at the bottom of the well. The man tugged,
while the Brahmin never took his eyes, now bright and fiery, off him. I
went back to where they all stood. The thing had lasted five minutes.
Then the priest's lips moved silently.

Instantly the strain was released and the stout water-carrier fell
headlong backwards on the grass, his heels in the air, jerking the
bucket right over the edge of the well. He bounded to his feet and ran
up the grove, shouting "Bhut, Bhut," "devils, devils," at the top of his
voice. His obstinacy had lasted so long as the bucket would not move,
but then his terror got the better of him and he fled.

"Did you ever see anything of that kind before, Miss Westonhaugh?" I
inquired.

"No indeed; have you? How is it done?"

"I have seen similar things done, but not often. There are not many of
them that know how. But I cannot tell you the process any more than I
can explain the mango trick, which belongs, distantly, to the same class
of phenomena."

The Brahmin, whose eyes were again dim and filmy, turned to Isaacs.

"I have done a wonder for you. I will also tell you a saying. You have
done wrong in not taking the advice of your friend. You should not have
come forth to kill the king of game, nor have brought the white-haired
lady into the tiger's jaws. I have spoken. Peace be with you." And he
moved away.

"And with you peace, friend," answered Isaacs mechanically, but as I
looked at him he turned white to the very lips.

Miss Westonhaugh did not understand the language, and Isaacs would have
been the last person to translate such a speech as the Brahmin had made.
We turned and strolled up the hill, and presently I bethought me of some
errand, and left them together under the trees. They were so happy and
so beautiful together, the fair lily from the English dale and the deep
red rose of Persian Gulistan. The