a small brass
drinking-vessel.

His offer surprised her, knowing the Hindu's horror of a stranger's
polluting touch, but she accepted it without question. Stooping, she
scooped up a cupful of the clean water and drank.

The draught was cold as ice and refreshed her marvellously. She thanked
him for it with a smile.

"And now?" she said.

He bowed profoundly, and taking the cup he washed it very carefully in
the stream. Then, deprecatingly, he spoke.

"_Mem-sahib_, it is here that we cross the water."

She looked at the rushing stream with dismay. It was not very wide but
she saw at once that it was beyond a leap. She fancied that the swirling
water in the middle indicated depth.

"Do you mean I must wade?" she asked.

He made a cringing gesture.

"There is another way, most gracious."

She gazed at him blankly.

"Another way?"

Again he bent himself.

"If the _mem-sahib_ will so far trust her servant."

"But--but how?" she asked, somewhat breathlessly. "You don't mean--you
can't mean----"

"_Mem-sahib_," he said gently, "it will not be the first time that I
have borne one of your race in my arms. I may seem old to you, most
gracious, but I have yet the vigour of manhood. The water is swift but
it is not deep. Let the _mem-sahib_ watch her servant cross with the
snake-basket, and she will see for herself that he speaks the truth. He
will return for the _mem-sahib_, with her permission, and will bear her
in safety to the farther bank, whence it is but an hour's journey on
foot to Kundaghat."

There was a coaxing touch about all this which was not lost upon Beryl.
He was horribly ugly, she thought to herself, with that hideous red
smear across his dusky face; but in spite of this she felt no fear.
Unprepossessing he might be, but he was in no sense formidable.

As she stood considering him he stooped and, lifting his basket, stepped
with his sandalled feet into the stream. His long white garment trailed
unheeded upon the water which rose above his knees as he proceeded.

Reaching the further bank, he deposited his burden and at once turned
back. Beryl was waiting for him. For some reason unknown even to
herself, she had made up her mind to trust this old man.

"If the most gracious will deign to rest her arm upon my shoulder," he
suggested, in his meek quaver.

And without further demur she complied.

The moment he lifted her she knew that his strength was fully equal to
the venture. His arms w