,
and I came so near to dragging him through after me that the stone trap
got past my head and jammed against my elbows.

Then I heard King yelling for the Mahatma to bring the lantern back, and
after what seemed an interminable interval the Mahatma came and set one
foot on the stone, so that it swung past my head again, nearly braining
me in its descent. I don't know whether he intended that or not.

"There is more in this than accident," he said, his voice booming hollow
as he bent to let the light fall on me. "Very well; pull up your
buffalo, and you shall have him!"

It was no easy task for the two of them to haul me up, because the
moment the Mahatma removed his foot from the lid of the trap the thing
swung upward and acted like the tongue of a buckle to keep me from
coming through. When he set his foot on it again, the other foot did not
give him sufficient purchase. Finally King managed to pull his
loin-cloth off and pass it around under my armpits, after which the two
together hauled me clear, minus in the aggregate about a half square
foot of skin that I left on the edge of the stone.

Off the Mahatma went alone again, swinging his lantern, and apparently
at peace with himself and the whole universe.

Thereafter, King and I walked arm-in-arm, thinking in that way to lessen
the risk of further pitfalls. But there was no more. The Mahatma reached
at last what looked like a blind stone wall at the end of the tunnel;
but there was a flagstone missing from the floor in front of it, and he
disappeared down a black-dark flight of steps.

We followed him into a cellar, whose walls wept moisture, but we saw no
cobras; and then up another flight of steps on the far side into a
chamber that I thought I recognized. He disappeared through a door in
the corner of that, and by the time we had groped our way after him he
was sitting in the old black panther's cage with the brute's head in his
lap, stroking and twisting its ears as if it were a kitten. The cage
door was wide open, and the day was already growing hot and brassy in
the east.

King and I hurried out of the cage, for the panther showed his fangs at
us; the Mahatma followed us out and snapped the door shut. Instantly the
panther sprang at us, trying to bend the bars together. Failing in that,
he lay close and shoved his whole shoulder through, clawing at us. It
was hardly any wonder that that secret, yet so simply discoverable door
between Yasmini's palace a