• TABLE OF CONTENTS
HIDE
 Front Cover
 Advertising
 Frontispiece
 Title Page
 Table of Contents
 List of Illustrations
 A flash of lightning
 The wishbone night
 Being heroes
 Paul among the Hindus
 Wild life on the river, and a Hindu...
 Scott in the mysteries of...
 Snakes
 In palanquin and row-boat
 An elephant fight and a mountain...
 Thugs and traitors
 Pilgrims, priests, and people...
 Among the palaces
 Delhi, Dennett, and Dhondaram
 Scott at the Hindu feast
 You shall be my Hari-Sahib
 Scott's first tiger, and final...
 It was my own Dhondaram
 Back Cover
 Spine






Group Title: Roundabout books
Title: Our boys in India
CITATION THUMBNAILS PAGE TURNER PAGE IMAGE ZOOMABLE
Full Citation
STANDARD VIEW MARC VIEW
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00081047/00001
 Material Information
Title: Our boys in India
Series Title: Roundabout books
Physical Description: 314 p. : ill. ; 22 cm.
Language: English
Creator: French, Harry W ( Harry Willard ), 1854-
Bayard, Émile Antoine, 1837-1891 ( Illustrator )
Mozart, W. J ( Illustrator )
Kremer, E ( Illustrator )
Charles E. Brown & Co ( Publisher )
S.J. Parkhill & Co ( Publisher )
John Andrew & Son ( Engraver )
Publisher: Charles E. Brown
Place of Publication: Boston
Manufacturer: S.J. Parkhill & Co.
Publication Date: c1892
 Subjects
Subject: Kidnapping -- Juvenile fiction   ( lcsh )
Children's stories   ( lcsh )
Description and travel -- Juvenile fiction -- India   ( lcsh )
Juvenile literature -- 1892   ( rbgenr )
Bldn -- 1892
Genre: Juvenile literature   ( rbgenr )
fiction   ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage: United States -- Massachusetts -- Boston
 Notes
Statement of Responsibility: by Harry W. French.
General Note: Some illustrations drawn by Emile Bayard, E. Kremer, and W.J. Mozart; some illustrations engraved by John Andrew & Son.
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00081047
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: aleph - 001583548
oclc - 23185299
notis - AHK7484

Table of Contents
    Front Cover
        Front Cover 1
        Front Cover 2
    Advertising
        Advertising
    Frontispiece
        Frontispiece
    Title Page
        Title Page 1
        Title Page 2
    Table of Contents
        Table of Contents
    List of Illustrations
        List of Illustrations 1
        List of Illustrations 2
        List of Illustrations 3
    A flash of lightning
        Page 1
        Page 2
        Page 3
        Page 4
        Page 5
        Page 6
        Page 7
        Page 8
    The wishbone night
        Page 9
        Page 10
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
    Being heroes
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
    Paul among the Hindus
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
    Wild life on the river, and a Hindu feast
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Page 74
    Scott in the mysteries of India
        Page 75
        Page 76
        Page 77
        Page 78
        Page 79
        Page 80
        Page 81
        Page 82
        Page 83
        Page 84
        Page 85
        Page 86
        Page 87
        Page 88
        Page 89
        Page 90
        Page 91
        Page 92
        Page 93
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
        Page 97
        Page 98
        Page 99
        Page 100
        Page 101
        Page 102
    Snakes
        Page 103
        Page 104
        Page 105
        Page 106
        Page 107
        Page 108
        Page 109
        Page 110
        Page 111
        Page 112
        Page 113
        Page 114
        Page 115
        Page 116
        Page 117
    In palanquin and row-boat
        Page 118
        Page 119
        Page 120
        Page 121
        Page 122
        Page 123
        Page 124
        Page 125
        Page 126
        Page 127
        Page 128
        Page 129
        Page 130
        Page 131
        Page 132
        Page 133
        Page 134
        Page 135
        Page 136
        Page 137
        Page 138
        Page 139
        Page 140
        Page 140a
    An elephant fight and a mountain ride
        Page 141
        Page 142
        Page 143
        Page 144
        Page 145
        Page 146
        Page 147
        Page 148
        Page 149
        Page 150
        Page 151
        Page 152
        Page 153
        Page 154
        Page 155
        Page 156
        Page 157
        Page 158
        Page 159
        Page 160
        Page 161
        Page 162
        Page 163
        Page 164
        Page 165
        Page 166
        Page 167
        Page 168
        Page 169
        Page 170
        Page 171
        Page 172
        Page 173
        Page 174
        Page 175
        Page 176
        Page 177
        Page 178
        Page 179
    Thugs and traitors
        Page 180
        Page 181
        Page 182
        Page 183
        Page 184
        Page 185
        Page 186
        Page 187
        Page 188
        Page 189
        Page 190
        Page 191
    Pilgrims, priests, and people everywhere
        Page 192
        Page 193
        Page 194
        Page 195
        Page 196
        Page 197
        Page 198
        Page 199
        Page 200
        Page 201
        Page 202
        Page 203
        Page 204
        Page 205
        Page 206
        Page 207
        Page 208
        Page 209
        Page 210
        Page 211
        Page 212
    Among the palaces
        Page 213
        Page 214
        Page 215
        Page 216
        Page 217
        Page 218
        Page 219
        Page 220
        Page 221
        Page 222
        Page 223
        Page 224
        Page 225
        Page 226
        Page 227
        Page 228
    Delhi, Dennett, and Dhondaram
        Page 229
        Page 230
        Page 231
        Page 232
        Page 233
        Page 234
        Page 235
        Page 236
        Page 237
        Page 238
        Page 239
    Scott at the Hindu feast
        Page 240
        Page 241
        Page 242
        Page 243
        Page 244
        Page 245
        Page 246
        Page 247
        Page 248
        Page 249
    You shall be my Hari-Sahib
        Page 250
        Page 251
        Page 252
        Page 253
        Page 254
        Page 255
        Page 256
        Page 257
        Page 258
        Page 259
        Page 260
        Page 261
        Page 262
        Page 263
        Page 264
        Page 265
        Page 266
        Page 267
        Page 268
        Page 269
        Page 270
        Page 271
        Page 272
        Page 273
        Page 274
        Page 275
        Page 276
        Page 277
        Page 278
        Page 279
        Page 280
        Page 281
        Page 282
        Page 283
        Page 284
        Page 285
    Scott's first tiger, and final prize
        Page 286
        Page 287
        Page 288
        Page 289
        Page 290
        Page 291
        Page 292
        Page 293
        Page 294
        Page 295
        Page 296
        Page 297
        Page 298
        Page 299
        Page 300
        Page 301
        Page 302
    It was my own Dhondaram
        Page 303
        Page 304
        Page 305
        Page 306
        Page 307
        Page 308
        Page 309
        Page 310
        Page 311
        Page 312
        Page 313
        Page 314
    Back Cover
        Back Cover 1
        Back Cover 2
    Spine
        Spine
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,.I DRIfflNG iOULD THEWORLD.
i2 A VOYAGE IN THE SUNBEAM.
3 OUE BOYS IN INDIA. C
f ^ OUFr BOYS IN CHINA. c'\
YOUNG AMERICANS IN JAPANi
YOUNG AMERICANS IN TOKIO.
S YOUNG AMERICANS IN YEZO.
c THE FALL OF SEBASTOPOL. -
SFIGHTING THE SARAGENS.
lI THE YOUNG COLONISTS.
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THE ELEPHANT FIGHT.


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HE RIVN)ABOVT OOsi8


BY


HARRY W. FR E/ CH


-AUTHOR OF
rOU BOYS Is /\ CM IIz A
"OUR ..5oYS.)5 IRELAMID"
ETC., ETC

{. '- D U T '
BOSTON."
CHARLiES E.BROWN& Co.











































Copyright, 1892,

BY CHARLES E. BROWN & CO.





































S. J PARKWH L & CO., PRINTERS
BOSTON














CONTENTS.






CHAPTER PAGE
I. A FLASH OF LIGHTNING I
II. THE WISHBONE NIGHT 9
III. BEING HEROES I
IV. PAUL AMONG THE HINDUS 2
V. WILD LIFE ON THE RIVER, AND A HINDU FEAST 43
VI. SCOTT IN THE MYSTERIES OF INDIA 7
VII. SNAKES . .
VIII. IN PALANQUIN AND Row BOAT I;
IX. AN ELEPHANT FIGHT AND A MOUNTAIN RIDE 141
X. THUGS AND TRAITORS .. ISO
XI. PILGRIMS, PRIESTS, AND PEOPLE EVERYWHERE 192
XII. AMONG THE PALACES 213
XIII. DELHI, DENNETT, AND DHONDAAM 229
XIV. SCOTT AT THE HINDU FEAST .. 240
XV. YOU SHALL I;E ;IY I.\LA-SAH 250
XVI. SCOTT'S FIRST TIGER, AND FINAL PRIZE 286
XVII. IT WAS MY OWN DHONDARAM 303





LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAGE
__ HE ELEPHANT FIGHT Frontispiece
SHAYING 2
,RODERICK DENNETT'S WIFE 4
RICHARD RAYMOND. 5
BY THE SEA, AND THE PINES AND THE OAKS 8
THE WISHBONE NIGHT I
THE INTERVIEW 13
RICHARD RAYMOND AND SCOTT CLAYTON 17
IT TAKES MORE THAN BRAVERY TO MAKE A HERO 19
BESS AND HER PET. 22
IN THE BAZAAR .. 24
PAUL AND THE HAG 30
DHIONDARAM 36
DAUGHTERS OF KALI 39
BOATS AND BOATMEN OF THE GANGES 41
A CURIOUS CONTRIVANCE 45
CROCODILES .46
THEY ARE COMING TO BATHE THE IDOL 49
THE MAD ELEPHANT 53
THE LONG ROAD 55
THE GODDESS KALI 57
NATIVE HUTS 6
NATIVE CART 65
BEGGAR AND BOY 67
THE HINDU FEAST 69
A NARROW STREET 73
COAST OF BOMBAY 76
JUGGLERS 79
SERPENT-CHARMERS 82
FRUIT-SELLER 85
GOING TO MARKET 86
To MALABAR HILL 88
IN THE BAZAAR 9
HINDU MENDICANT. 95
ESOFALI' HOUSE 98
FIVE YEARS OLD IOI




LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

THE COTTON-BROKERS 104
MoRO J05
SAYAD 6
CARRIAGE OF HINDU LADY 109
MORE SNAKE-CHARMERS III
THE CROWD BECAME DENSER. 112
THE FESTIVAL OF THE SERPENTS 1 15
SAPWALLAH 16
THE PALANQUIN 20
BEING SHAVED. 122
THE POSTMAN .123
A HINDU TEMPLE .. 126
THE MUSICIANS 128
SCHOOLBOYS SALUTING 30
UNDER A PRIEST 31
CAVES OF ELEPHANT 134
MARRIAGE OF SIVA 135
A KATWADI 136
WANDERING MUNIS 39
RHINOCEROS FIGHT 147
THE DAK GARRI 150
THE SLAUGHTER-HOUSE .. 151
A NATIVE POTTERY 154
NARBADA RIVER 155
THE MARBLE GORGE 159
LIKE THE CEDARS OF LEBANON 162
THE MOUNTAIN VILLAGE 164
THE OLD MAN AND HIS WIVES 66
A HINDU DRIVING BULLOCKS 167
THE DYE-HOUSE 175
THUGS 177-
THE OLD FORT 181
"THERE IS NO NEED TO BIND ME, CAPTAIN 185
SCENE OF "THE MASSACRE OF TWO THOUSAND HINDUS BY THE
BRITISH 186
THE SCENE OF NANA SAHIB'S -MASSACRE OF THE BRITISH 18
PREACHING THE INSURRECTION 19
BENARES .. 193




LIST OF ILL USTRAllOIN.

TEMPLES BY THE RIVER 198
BURNING THE DEAD 200
THE BEAUTIFUL MARBLE.GIIATS 201
TIE OBSERVATORY 202
A FUNERAL PROCESSION ... 2C5
THE OLD TOPE AT SARNATH 210
THE FAMOUS DELHI GATE 214
PALACE COURT AND TAJ MAHAL IN THE DISTANCE 217
THE BALCONY 219
THE BEAUTIFUL GATE 220
THE TAJ FROM THE GARDEN 221
A RAJAH OF THE GOOD OLD DAYS ... 225
ADVERTISING ROCKS 226
THE TOMB OF SELIM CHRISTI 227
THE RAILWAY BRIDGE OVER THE JUMNA AT DELHI 20
DELIII OF THREE THOUSAND YEARS AGO 232
KUTUB MINAR. .' 235
THE CASHMERE GATE OF DELHI 237
MASSURI IN THE MOUNTAINS .. 248
THE DYERS 253
DHONDARAM IN ARMOR 255
THE CORN-CIANDLER. 25)
BATHING AN IDOL 260
THE MERCHANT 264
THE DAY'S MARCH THROUGH THE MOUNTrAINS 255
TIE CLOUD MOUNTAIN DY THE MOON 267
UP AMONG THE SNOWS 269
THE GOLDEN TEMPLE 270
A CURIOUS PEOPLE.. 272
THE WOOD-CUTTER 273
THE SHEPERDESS 274'
THE BLACK GORGES 275
THE CAMP ON THE HEIGHTS 279
lIE HEARD A SHARP REPORT 283
RAJPOOT GUARD 287
TIE MOUNTAIN COOLIES 289
SCOTT'S FIRST TIGER 291
"PAUL! PAUL!" 301

















OUR BOYS IN INDIA.



CHAPTER I.

A FLASH OF LIGHTNING.

ANY who were boys in Massachusetts only a
S few years ago will well remember a startling
notice that was printed in the newspapers, and
was posted in conspicuous positions throughout
the State, declaring in great letters, -

A CHILD MISSING I- TWENTY THOUSAND DOLLARS REWARD,
Paul Clayton, the youngest son of Benjamin Clayton, president of the
Merchants' and Shippers' Bank of Boston, has been missing from home since
Aug. 1o.
It is supposed that the boy was stolen, between the hours of eight and nine
on the night of the ioth of August, from the summer residence of Mr. Clayton, at
Beverly Farms. He was six years old, had long, brown curling hair, a full face,
light complexion, blue eyes, and rosy cheeks. He was a particularly happy-
tempered and affectionate child, large for his age, and unusually mature and
intelligent.
Any one giving information that shall result in his recovery will receive
the sum of twenty thousand dollars.
(Signed) PHINEAS SHARP,
Chief of the Boston Detective Bureau, Boston, Mas4,




OUR BOYS IN INDIA.


There may be some who even followed one clew or another,
partly out of sympathy for little Paul Clayton, and partly at-
tracted by the large reward. But the first five days went by
without the desired information.
The farmers had almost finished their haying, and they were
glad of it; for upon that I5th there was a terrible thunder-
storm, that tore up and threw down every thing in the fields

















SAYING.
that would yield to it. At six o'clock the sun came out again;
but in an hour it set in dense clouds, and a lingering storm set
in, that lasted several days.
Richard Raymond had returned from India only two days
before. He went directly to his sister's house in Beverly. She
was his only living relative; and that was the old homestead that
he had left, as a boy, now nearly twenty years before. Anxious
to see the old landmarks again, and supposing that the storm
had broken up, he took advantage of the cool air and the
momentary sunshine to go out for a stroll.




A FLASH OF LIGHTNING.


In fifteen minutes he was buried in the pine forests, that
every one who has ever been there will remember, extending
between Beverly and Beverly Farms. The dry, sandy soil had
rapidly absorbed the water that had poured down upon it; and
Richard Raymond wore a pair of boots so thick, that he did not
even notice the drops yet clinging to the ferns and blueberry-
bushes. He was thirty-five years old; but he felt like the boy
of fifteen again, as he once more pushed his way through the
low branches, stopping now and then to pick a leaf of' winter-
green, hard and tasteless, though it was in the middle of August.
His heart was full of sunshine. He did not even notice that
the real sunlight was again enveloped in dense clouds, and
rapidly fading out of the east, till drops began to patter on the
leaves, and the wind to sigh in a moist and rainy way through
the branches of occasional oaks that grew among the pines;
but it sounded so natural, so much like what he had often
heard when a boy, that he only laughed, and felt so much the
more at home.
Still he kept pn his walk, till suddenly he realized that it was
becoming very dark; and he stopped for a moment to wonder
where he was, and what direction he should take to go back
again. Every thing was changed, to the very forests. He
did not remember the old paths so well as he thought, even
those that were the same as they had been twenty years before.
In fact, he very soon came to the conclusion that he was lost.
And, as if the clouds were laughing at him, they began to pour
down the rain almost as fast as they had in the afternoon. Then
the lightning flashed: but this was fortunate, for in the light he
discovered that he was very near a road; and, reaching it as
soon as possible, he drew himself close to the trunk of a tree,
to wait there till some team should pass or the rain should
cease.




OUR BOYS IN INDIA.


Neither of these things happened at once; but, before he
had been there very long, he heard some one muttering. It
was a woman's voice: she was talking to herself. In a moment
more a flash of lightning disclosed the figure of a woman, with
torn clothes and a very pale face, creeping along the road, drip-
ping with water, wring-
ing her hands, and wail-
ing in words that he
could not understand.
Richard Raymond
spoke to her. She gave
a faint cry of fear at
first; but then she
caught his hand, and
burst into tears. He
could just see her as
she stood close beside
him.
"0 sir! save me,
save me!" she cried.
Find my husband for
me, and I will give you
I will give you any
AS thing, any thing "
RODERICK DENNETT'I WIFE.
The woman was evi -
dently insane; and, as she clasped Richard's hand, something that
she was holding fell to the ground, but she did not notice it.
Is your husband lost, my good woman?" asked Richard
gently. What was his name?"
The poor woman dropped his hand, and, covering her face,
began to cry again, sobbing, Oh, his name was Roderick,




A FLASH OF LIGHTNING.


Roderick Dennett! and we were married only a month ago;
and now he has left me forever. He has been gone five days.
Oh, he has gone forever! Yes, gone forever, I know."
Richard Raymond started when the woman pronounced that
name; and in the darkness and the pouring rain, and a strange
conflict of thoughts that had been produced by the sound of
the word that was very familiar to him, he did not notice that
the woman had suddenly left him. But she was gone. He
could not tell in which direction. He called; but she did not
answer. He remembered that she had dropped something, and
stooped and picked it up. It was
evidently a little watch and chain.
He walked rapidly down the road,
but could not find her.
A few minutes later Mr. Ray-
mond had discovered lights in
windows close at hand, and soon
found himself sheltered in a little
station a few miles from Beverly,
on a branch road. He was still RICHAD RAYMOND
repeating that name Roderick Dennett;" for he and Roderick
Dennett ran away to sea together twenty years before, and
together wandered as far as India. There Richard had
dropped the sowing of wild oats, and by diligent application
had become a wealthy man; but Roderick had lived by deceiv-
ing every one with whom he had any thing to do. At the end
of ten years he left India, and Richard knew no more of him,
till now he suddenly heard the name again; and, as ever, it was
connected with crime.
Richard looked at the little watch that he still held in his
hand. It was a silver hunting-case. He opened it. It had




OUR BOYS IN INDIA.


run down. On the inside of the cover the name Paul" was
engraved in the silver. He shut it up again, and went on think-
ing, while he waited for a train.
As he sat there, his eyes wandered over the room, and
finally rested on a notice calculated to attract attention. It was
under the large head-line, -

"A CHILD MISSING!"

and three times he read the notice through, then suddenly
opened the little watch again, and read the name engraved on
the cover, Paul."
SHe began putting the facts together that had so curiously
come under his notice all in a single hour.
He left her five days ago," he said to himself. Five days
ago was Aug. o1. I wonder if there can be any connection be-
tween the Paul Clayton on the notice there, and the Paul whose
name is in this watch, and Roderick Dennett, whose wife was
carrying it an hour ago! "
A train whistled, and drew up at the station. Richard seated
himself in it, and safely reached his home. The next day he
went to Boston, and soon learned that the name of Roderick
Dennett was upon many lips as connected with a crime more
bold than he had ever committed in India, and that the man
had disappeared. Officers were eagerly searching for him, but
with no clew; and no one connected him with the abduction of
the missing child. Richard said nothing of his suspicions: but,
at the earliest possible opportunity, he went to New York; and,
after a week of work that would have surprised even the Boston
Detective Bureau, he came to the conclusion that a Benjamin
Shipman and daughter, who sailed from there upon a Mediter-
ranean steamer, of the Anchor Line, at noon on the i ith of




A FLASH OF LIGHTNING. 7

August, were none other than Roderick Dennett and the miss-
ing Paul Clayton.
He had no real authority for this, and the police-officers
would have laughed at him had he told them upon what frail
ground he based his belief. Yet he felt so sure of it, that, had
he had the power, he would have had this Benjamin Shipman
arrested, and brought back to America: but the steamer had
been gone for thirteen days before he became positive, and b)
that time she would have passed the Straits of Gibraltar; and
he fancied that Roderick Dennett would have taken passage
upon the first connecting steamer for India.
Richard Raymond had now become thoroughly interested in
the matter; and, though he saw the folly of laying his suspicions
before the officers, he was resolved to see the father of the miss-
ing child, and, placing the facts before him, offer his services.
While he is on his way back to Beverly, intent upon going
over at once to the Farms, let us, too, turn to the home of the
little Paul Clayton as it was upon the evening of the ioth of
the month.



























































BY THE SEA, AND THE PINES AND THE UAKB.





THE WISHBONE NIGHT.


CHAPTER II.

THE WISHBONE NIGHT.

TENJAMIN CLAYTON'S cottage at Beverly Farms
I' was one of the prettiest in that beautiful forest skirt-
Sii g the coast. It was built in the old Gothic style,
with long windows; and when the lights shone
through them at night, they seemed like some of the old castle
windows of Europe. The sea dashed against the rocks upon
one side of the road, and the pine forest surrounded the house
on the other. Beverly Farms is so near to Boston, that Mr.
Clayton could go to the bank in the city every day almost as
conveniently as though he remained at his city home; so that
all summer and every summer his four happy children, Scott,
Bess, Paul, and Kittie, romped in the forest, or played upon the
seashore.
Kittie was the baby-girl. Paul was the youngest boy. On
the tenth day of August he was six years old. Bess was nine,
and Scott was fourteen. They were all the world to each other,
and their happy home was almost a heaven to them.
The Gothic cottage was filled with children on this ioth of
August. .Paul was enjoying a birthday party with his friends.
It was the lucky six," and hence was made a wishbone party;
and every little couple was given a wishbone to secure for them-
selves the best thing that heart could think of on this auspi-
cious occasion. There was something superstitiously sacred in
the wishing; and there was something so sacred to the brothers





OUR BOYS IN INDIA.


and sisters in each other, that they stole away by themselves,
after the wishbones had been distributed, to break them where
no one else could see or hear.
"What do you wish for, little Paul?" cried Bess with a
merry laugh.
Paul was thoughtful. His brow contracted in a studious
way; his blue eyes wandered up and down the brittle bone.
"What do you wish for, Bess ?" he asked doubtfully.
I ? said Bess. Oh I wish you many happy returns of
the day, of course; but you must wish for something for your-
self, you know."
"Well," said Paul at last, "I wish that I might visit that
wonderful land of India, that aunt Jane was telling us about
this afternoon. I wish I might go all over India."
I withe tho too," lisped little Kittie.
"And I," said Scott, looking over Bess's shoulder, "I wish
for an opportunity to be a hero."
"What a funny wish!" cried Bess; "but pull, brothers,
pull! Now: one, two, three!" and the wishbones snapped.
Paul ran away to find his father, and tell him of the result.
In the library sat Mr. Clayton and another gentleman. It
required but a glance at the two to tell at once that both were
in desperate earnestness over something.
For two days Benjamin Clayton had worn a very serious face
in his private office at the bank, for something had been going
wrong. No one had noticed this at home; for, while Mr. Clay-
ton thought of nothing but his business in the city, he never
brought any of it home with him, in his face at least, where
the children could see it. He was the president of the largest
bank in Boston; and two days before, he had discovered some-
thing in the cashier's accounts that the great bank examiner































































































=-- --- dor~nauD-srw-S-q.


THE WISHBONE NIGHT.





SUR BO YS IN INDIA.


had overlooked; and the deeper he studied those accounts, the
greater the fraud appeared, till, to his horror, he found that the
cashier was a defaulter and a 'robber to the amount of nearly a
half-million dollars. It seemed incredible that every one had
been so blinded; yet there were the figures, when Mr. Clayton
gave them his attention, and the securities that had been left
with the bank were gone.
Mr. Clayton had said nothing to his cashier; but with the
quick suspicion of a guilty mind, that Shakspeare talks about,
the cashier had discovered that he knew all about it, and to-
night, in spite of the party, he had come out to the Farms, and
was in earnest conversation with the president.
Mr. Clayton listened without a word, while the cashier laid
the whole matter before him, and ended in this way: -
Now, Mr. Clayton, the deed is done, and you have found
it out. You were too smart for me by about a week. What I
propose to do is this: I shall be at the bank late at night, on
the last of the month, settling the accounts. I shall be attacked
by men that I shall hire. They will break into the safe, and
the next day-there will have been a terrible robbery. As you
have found me out, I shall have to divide with you. I shall take
charge of disposing of the securities, and will give you, in good
money, one quarter of a million dollars."
Mr. Clayton was a man who had learned by long trial to
control himself, and act carefully; but this was something that
was beyond his utmost will. He sprang to his feet. His face
was flushed with anger.
"Roderick Dennett!" he exclaimed, "had you come to
me with any show of penitence, I could have forgiven you, and
done all in my power to make others forgive you too. But not
for all the money in the world would I help you to cover up a
crime."





THE WISHB ONE NIGHT.


"Then you will expose me?" said Roderick sullenly.
"Most assuredly replied Mr. Clayton, sitting down again.
"You will be exposing yourself," said Roderick. No one
will believe that a half-million dollars could have been taken
from the bank by the cashier without the knowledge of the


THE INTERVIEW.


president; and it would be much better for you and the bank,
as well as for me, if it went as a robbery."
I do not care if every one suspects me! I do not care
if I am imprisoned for life! exclaimed Mr. Clayton. I would
not aid you to steal a pin for all the money in Boston, or any
other consideration. You are a miserable scoundrel! a black-
leg a villanous dog I will denounce you "
Stop cried Roderick Dennett angrily. Be careful! I'll
make you suffer for what you are saying! "





OUR BOYS IN INDIA.


Just as Mr. Clayton was about to reply, Paul came running
into the room with the broken wishbone in his hand.
"Papa, papa!" he cried, "come down and wish with us.
Oh, we are having such fun! I've just wished that I might go
to India, and I've got my wish. I know I'm going; for it's the
lucky night, you know."
Here little Paul hesitated; and with the broken bone in one
hand, and his curly little head hanging to one side, he looked
from his father to the stranger, and back again, for he saw
that something was the matter.
Run away now, Paul," said his father: you must not dis-
turb me. I will come down by and by." He said it very kindly:
but, after all, it was so different from the way in which he had
always spoken, that Paul felt a great lump gather in his throat;
and, instead of going back to the merry party of children, he
crept out on the veranda all alone, and began to cry.
Some terrible words passed between the two men as soon
as Paul had gone out, but no one ever knew what they were.
The stranger went away very soon, but Mr. Clayton did not
come out of the library. No one saw him till over an hour
later, when his wife and Scott and Bess, in great anxiety, came
hurrying into the room. For a moment they forgot their
errand; for there sat Mr. Clayton, just where Paul had left him,
ghastly pale and terribly agitated. He did not notice them till
his wife bent over him, and anxiously asked, -
What is it, Benjamin? What is it? Has any thing hap-
pened to Paul?"
"To Paul ?" Mr. Clayton started to his feet; for little Paul
was his petted boy, and at that moment, at least, seemed the
dearest thing on earth to him.
"We cannot find him. We have hunted everywhere," cried
Bess, who could no longer restrain herself.




THE WISHBONE NIGHT.


With his eyes fixed in a terrible stare, Mr. Clayton turned
toward his wife. In her face he read the truth.- With one
groan he staggered backward, and fell upon the floor. It was
a severe stroke of paralysis, and the night was sad enough in
that happy family.
The terrible danger in which the father stood distracted the
attention partly from little Paul; and at best they could not have
known which way to turn, for no one knew of Roderick Dennett
and the conversation that had passed in the library. No one
knew of the terrible threats he had made, and of how little Paul
had come into the library just when he was trying to determine
what he could do to make Mr. Clayton suffer most.
Mr. Clayton could have turned the search in the right direc-
tion, and doubtless have arrested the fugitive and villain before
he could have escaped, which Roderick Dennett was very fear-
ful would come to pass. But the father's lips were sealed with
paralysis; and for weeks after the shock he did not speak a
word, or hardly know what was transpiring about him.
The sudden disappearance of the cashier, and the illness of
the president, annoyed the officers of the bank: and, though the
defalcation was not at once discovered, matters looked strangely
suspicious; and in two days the whole was known, and officers
were sent to search for the fugitive. But it was two days too
late. Roderick Dennett escaped without suspicion; and, had it
not been for one contingency, he might have lived for years,
and perhaps died, without having any search properly directed.
That contingency was the very last that he had looked for, -
the presence of Richard Raymond on the scene.




OUR BOYS IN INDIA.


CHAPTER III.

BEING HEROES.

T was on the thirtieth day of August that Richard Ray-
mond introduced himself in the disconsolate home.
He was ushered into the library; and as Mrs. Clayton
was engaged in assisting the doctor with her husband,
it was some time before she appeared. Scott sat by the centre-
table, with an open book before him; but his eyes were swollen
with crying, and his cheeks were wet with tears. He was not
reading. The stranger came in so suddenly, that Scott had no
opportunity to leave the room; but he was ashamed to be
found crying, and hid his face.
Richard Raymond, with the true sympathy of an honest
heart, realized the position: and, to try and make friends with
the poor boy, he threw himself carelessly into an easy-chair
beside him; and, taking a book from the shelves at hand, he
pretended for a time to be engaged in reading. Scott turned
his head away, and rested his cheek in his hand, struggling to
stifle the sobs that kept forcing themselves from his sad heart.
This gave Mr. Raymond an opportunity to study him carefully
for a moment, before he attempted to draw him into conversa-
tion; and, as he was a kind-hearted and shrewd man, he was at
last able to succeed.
"I used to roam about here when I was a boy like you,"
said Richard; "but there were no houses here then. And
beyond the woods we used sometimes even to see wolves and




BEING HEROES.


foxes. Once, when I was ten years old, I went in the winter to
a field about half a mile from here with a boy who was older
than I. We were pretending that we were pioneers, and had
gathered some
sticks to build a '" it 1 _h
fire, and had I\
brought some ap-
ples and potatoes
from home to _
bake. While we
were at work, I
looked up, and
saw a large ani-
mal just springing
upon me. I could
not tell whether it
was a fox, or a
wolf, or only a
savage dog; but,
as I turned to run,
he leaped, and
threw me down.
I fell upon my
back, and he stood
over me, with his
great red tongue
hanging out of RICHAaD RAYMOND AND SCOTT CLAYTON.
his mouth, as I held him for life by the long hair on his throat.
The boy who was with me had turned to run: but, when he saw
me in trouble, he stopped; and, coming back with the axe that
we brought to cut the wood for the fire, he struck the creature




OUR BOYS IN INDIA.


a terrible blow behind the shoulders that almost cut him in
two."
He was a very brave boy," said Scott. Did he live to
grow up a hero?"
It takes more than bravery to make a hero," replied Mr.
Raymond.
I wish I were a hero," said Scott with a deep sigh. "I
have great need to be one now." And he turned his head away
again; and Richard, seeing that he was once more struggling
with the tears, endeavored to change the subject by saying, -
Yes, the boy did live; and he has grown up to be a sort of
a hero in one way, but I fancy it is not the kind of a hero that
you would like to be."
"Tell me about him, sir," said Scott. "What is his name?'
"It is Roderick Dennett," said Richard.
"Roderick Dennett! exclaimed Scott, looking up. "Why,
that is the name of the cashier of papa's bank."
"It is the very same man," replied Richard.
"But they say that he has run away with some of the bank
money," said Scott in surprise.
"That is being one kind of a hero, is it not?" asked:
Richard.
"A very bad hero," said Scott.
"That is precisely what I meant, that it takes more than
bravery to be a true hero. It took bravery to rob the bank,
but he would have been much stronger had he resisted the
temptation."
"Are there any wolves about here now, or foxes?" asked
Scott with a shudder.
Not many, I think," replied Mr. Raymond. But why do
you ask?"
































































i-==














IT TAKES MORE THAN BRAVERY TO MAKE A HEO.




OUR BOYS IN INDIA.


I was wondering if it could have been one of them that
carried off brother Paul," said Scott, bursting into tears.
"That is what I have come to see you and your mother
about," Mr. Raymond replied at last; for I think that I know
something about your brother Paul." Scott started to his feet;
but Mr. Raymond continued, "I believe it is the man who
saved my life that has taken Paul away."
Mr. Roderick Dennett! exclaimed Scott.
"Yes, Mr. Roderick Dennett. Do you know if he was
about here on the night of the party?" asked Richard.
Yes, sir, he was," replied Scott; for Bess and I saw him
go through the hall, and go out, just a little while before we
missed our brother. He hurried past us. Bess said, Good-
evening, Mr. Dennett;' but he never noticed us. We thought
it very strange, for he was always so kind when he came up to
see papa. But I had forgotten all about it since then."
Do you know whose watch this is?" asked Mr. Raymond,
showing Scott the little silver watch that the poor woman had
dropped on the ground.
Scott seized it eagerly, exclaiming, with tears in his eyes, -
"0 sir, it is Paul's! It was his birthday present from
papa. He wore it in the evening."
Richard Raymond was satisfied that he was right, though all
that he had built upon would have been thought a very frail
foundation to a legal detective. Just then Mrs. Clayton came
in with the good news that her husband was much better, and
seemed thoroughly conscious again, though still unable to speak.
Mr. Raymond told her briefly his suspicions, and the ground for
them. His name was not entirely unknown to her; and she put
such confidence in what he said, that it was decided that he
should see Mr. Clayton, even in his weak condition.




BEING HEROES.


Scott went with them to the sick-room, where, very simply
and calmly, Richard Raymond reported all that he knew.
"You must not think me an adventurer," said he, "urged
on by any thought of the reward .that is offered. I have an
independent fortune; and until I know that I am right, at least,
I wish to pay my own expenses. You can move your left hand,
I see; and if, when you assent to what I say, you will lift it from
the pillow, it will be all that is necessary. I can say in a few
words all that I know, and I trust you will not let it excite you.
I have thought that your cashier, Roderick Dennett, might
know something about Paul."
An eager flush for an instant tinged the pale cheeks, and
the hand was instantly lifted. It was evident to all that there
was no doubt in Mr. Clayton's mind that it was Roderick
Dennett. Mr. Raymond continued, -
I knew the man in America when he was a boy. I knew
him for ten years in India. I think that he left New York with
the child, on the Anchor Line, for India, on the i th of August.
If you will permit me, I will start at once for India; and I am
sure, that, sooner or later, I shall know all about your son."
Again the trembling hand was lifted from the pillow.
"Two things are absolutely necessary: my suspicions must
be kept a secret with you here, or he might easily hear and
baffle every endeavor; and I must have some one with me
who could instantly recognize the little boy through any dis-
guise that might be put upon him, some one who has known
him very well at home."
A shadow passed over the sick man's face. There was a
momentary silence in the room. Richard Raymond did not
look at Scott; but he knew the thoughts he was thinking, and
he felt sure that the boy who wanted to be a hero would come
to his aid.




22 OUR BOYS IN INDIA.

A moment later Scott knelt by his father's side, and earnest-
ly whispered, -


Father, let me go with him, and bring back brother Paul."
It was a terri-
ble struggle. Mrs.
Clayton, with one
arm about her son,
knelt weeping by
the bed. For a
moment it seemed
too much, and
Richard thought
that Mr. Clayton
was again wander-
ing in his mind;
but the left hand
trembled on the
pillow, and then
slowly rose. Scott
seized it, but
gently and rever-
ently, and pressed
it to his lips.
Bess was left
to love little Kit-
tie, and be the
BEAND HER PET ministering angel

in the sick-room. In the long, weary days that followed,
when the house seemed so still and deserted that had been so
bright before, her one great duty was a thing that seemed im-
possible to perform, to keep a happy face to cheer her father;





BEING HEROES.


and sometimes thoughts would come that were too much even
for the bravest little heart; and with her pet canary on her
shoulder chirping, and trying to kiss her, and seeming to do his
very best to express his sympathy, she would go to the window
to hide from her father the tears that would well up from the
full fountain. And there she would think over again all the
little incidents of that last half-hour when they were all to-
gether, when they stole away from the rest of the children to
break their wishbones on that sacred birthday night.
Perhaps little Paul is having his wish," she would sob;
" and surely Scott will have his. Oh, if I were only a man, I
would be a hero too, and help find little Paul!"
Brave little Bess! She never thought that she was the
greatest hero of them all, and performing the very hardest duty
and the noblest work. But so it is; and those who are real
heroes are oftener those who do not know it than those who
do.

















% ~.


d /


IN THE BAZAAR.





PAUL AMONG THE HINDUS.


CHAPTER IV.

PAUL AMONG THE HINDUS.

BRANCH road was being completed on one of the
great Indian railways. Among the engineers was a
half-caste. His face was dark and wild. He dressed
in European style, but his clothes were ragged and
vile. He smoked a pipe, instead of a hookah, or kubble-
bubble, such as the natives used. His hut was like a Euro-
pean hovel, more than a native house. He kept a huge
English mastiff, and was very proud of the fact that he was
not wholly a Hindu. He was foreman over five hundred
coolies, who were slowly accomplishing the construction of the
road. A fiercer man was not to be found; and, as the Gov-
ernment usually upheld its subordinates, the half-caste foreman
was feared, above even their gods, by the poor cooly men and
women who worked on his division of the road: hence he was
all the more valuable as a foreman. So his employers thought.
No one dared venture very near his hut, but left him to
his own doings, undisturbed by prying eyes, whenever he
chose to remain at home; for the mastiff was even fiercer
than his master. He lived with a half-caste sister, but little
more agreeable than himself, and with his old Hindu mother.
She was a witch now, and made a fortune for herself in
telling the fortunes of others, while she made every one
shudder who ever came within the charmed line of her shadow.
Her eyes were sharp, very sharp; and the eyebrows grew in





O UR BOYS IN INDIA.


bristles over them. Her forehead receded, only touched by
straggling locks of draggling white hair. Her nose was hooked
and long; and, as all her teeth were gone, her lips fell in.
Her chin was hooked and long, and over her mouth it almost
touched her nose. On her chin grew a coarse bristling beard,
that stood out an inch and more, like the quills on a por-
cupine. Many were the reports, among the poor workers on
the road, that this foreman and his witch of a mother were
very rich, that they had gold and silver buried in many a
secret spot in India. But every one knew that in all India
there was no one more ready to do any thing, no matter what
it was, to make more money. It was for that reason that
the old woman made herself so unutterably horrible to look
at, and went about as a witch and a fortune-teller. When
her two children were born, she was one of the most beau-
tiful dancing-girls in the land; but now the beauty was gone,
and she turned the scales, and still made a good living, only
it was out of her ugliness.
For over a month there had been another member in the
little family, -not a demon, like the rest, but a strange little
being, as unlike them as sunshine and night, with a deli-
cate little body, and a pale little face, and large blue eyes,
and long brown and curling hair; with a skin as fair as the
cream lily, and clothes as ragged as those of the half-caste.
It was little Paul Clayton; though who, Paul Clayton was,
the little fellow with blue eyes and brown hair could not have
told. He did not remember any such child as Paul Clayton.
He did not remember such a place as Beverly. He had only
a very strange feeling, that grew stronger every day, that all
was not just right, that the people about him were not
true, and that he was not just what they told him. He had




PAUL AMONG THE HINDUS.


been very ill: he knew that; and every thing seemed so dif-
ferent from the pictures he remembered, as though they were
the wandering dreams that had then flitted through his head,
that he could not tell now whether any thing that he seemed
to remember was real, or only some part of those dreams. He
even supposed he had forgotten how to talk. His thoughts
seemed to come in real words; but they were so confused,
that he could not put them straight, and, when he spoke aloud,
it was not in the same way that he thought. In reality, he
was speaking in Hindustani, and thinking in English, and
doing neither one perfectly.
Many a time, as he sat silently on the floor of the hut, -
the only real thing that he was at all sure of,- he would
try to grasp something that was only half-tangible in his
mind, and come at last to the conclusion that he was still in
that strange dream from which they told him he had wak-
ened, and he would try to shake himself and wake himself,
to find out where he really was, and what he was.
All the conversation that Paul heard was in Hindustani:
it sounded strange to him, yet he generally understood what
was said; and it seemed as though he had always heard it,
yet as though he had never heard it before in his life.
Every thing was so strange, so unreal, that, in a sort of
stupor, day after day went by, till, in despair, he at last gave
up trying to understand the half-idea of something very happy
and pleasant, and so different from any thing about him,
that ever and again would seem to come like a shadow
before him, and then vanish as he turned to look at it.
He did not remember how Roderick Dennett had worked for
over five weeks, on the steamer, to teach him to speak Hin-
dustani. He did not remember Roderick Dennett at all,





OUR BOYS IN INDIA.


or the steamer, except as a part of that dream that he had
during his sickness, when he had seemed to be something
beside the beggar-boy, who would have starved to death
over and over again had it not been for the kindness of the
old Hindu woman, and her son and daughter.
That was what they told him; and, as he had nothing else
to believe, he tried to believe them. And he tried to be
grateful, and not shudder and tremble every time they came
near him. He longed for some one whom he could love, to
whom he could fly for safety; but he looked and thought
and wondered in vain. There was no one, absolutely no
one, to whom he could turn. It was only one of the fancies
of his dream that seemed to speak to him of some one.
Every time he slept he dreamed it over again, and every
time he woke he became more sure that it was only a dream;
but there was just one thing that drew the past back to a
reality, in spite of every thing: it was his long brown hair.
It was never combed now, and lay in a tangled mat on his
head; but, when a stray curl fell over his forehead and eyes,
he seemed to see that something more clearly. He seemed
to feel a loving hand a hand as white as his own caress-
ing the little curl; and over and over again he would pull a
lock down over his forehead, and laugh with himself as he
looked at it, and felt so happy when his little heart was
thrilled by the touch of that vanished hand.
The old witch caught him in this way more than once;
and it was against her liking to see any one laughing.
Being herself deprived of all that she had once considered
happiness, she was bent on depriving every one else in the
same way, and determined to make that hair so short that
the boy could not see it.




PAUL AMONG THE HINDUS.


She called him outdoors, and seated herself on a rough
stool. This in itself was an awkward thing for her to do, for,
like all Hindu women, she was accustomed to sit on the
floor; but she wanted to reach the boy's head, and be in a
position to carry her point, in case of struggle.
No sooner was she well seated, with little Paul before
her, than she made a dive for his head, and, grasping a
handful of his hair roughly with her left hand, flourished a
long pair of shears in the other, and, with a fiendish grin,
said,-
"Now, then! we'll have this off before you have a chance
to laugh yourself dead through it."
With a shriek of fear, Paul seized the little lock that fell
over his eyes, and passionately clung to it with trembling
hands.
The old hag only struck him over the knuckles, and, with
a hollow laugh, began her work. Zip, zip, zip! went those
iron shears, pulling his hair at every cut, and each time
wringing a cry from his very heart. And all the time the
little hands were clasped more closely over that sacred lock.
The back hair was almost gone, and in a moment more there
would have been a struggle over the rest, when round the
corner came the half-caste foreman, his pipe in his mouth,
and his pants rolled up to his thighs.
Paul had had very little to do with him, and had little
hope of mercy from him; still he was determined that that
lock of hair, through which he could see the picture that
seemed so real, of a happiness that now he could not even
fully comprehend, should never be torn from him if any thing
could prevent it.
A defiant fire flashed from his blue eyes as he looked up





0 UR B YS IN INDIA.


at the half-caste foreman, but they fell again to the ground;
and poor little Paul began to tremble, for a fiercer face few
have ever seen or imagined. The eyes started from their
sockets, the teeth
,, 1 ,I -. shone fiendishly
i,. -.: white through the
J 1^1.-"i-'l-" black lips and
it":I .. I 1"beard.
,, -.
S, "'What are you
I'8" i" "at, withered hag? "
L Ahe cried furiously.
li l a "At my trade.
h, we The hair's worth a
M." Dpound in the mar-
ket," she replied,
though she loosed
her rude grasp;
_- and Paul gave a
sigh of relief, but
did not drop the
T, sacred little lock.
fp "` Haven't I
sworn to the hairs
of his head?" he
asked.
S- "They'll grow
PAUL AND THE HAG. again fast enough,"
replied the old woman. And again she laid her hand on
Paul's hair, when her son darted forward.
Drop it 1 he exclaimed; and instantly the withered hand
fell again.





PAUL AMONG THE HINDUS.


You're in a good mood to-day," 'she returned with a
sneer. I'll give my hairy chin but you've lost the worth
of your pipe full of tobacco at some game or other."
That I have," he replied. "There are men on the track of
the kid there. They are already in Bombay. They have an eye,
along the new line, for Dennett's old engineering friends."
Ugh!" exclaimed the old woman, springing to her feet,
and brushing the hair she was to sell for a pound in the
market on to the earth, where she fiercely trod on it with her
foot. "May their mouths be filled with dirt!" she cried.
"May they be defiled, and the mothers that bore them!
May the worms eat them, and the beggars spit upon their
beards!"
Che, che!" said the foreman fiercely. "Your curses
are all very well to frighten these nunnies about here; but
don't think that your tongue will drive off the English offi-
cers, if they come looking for the kid."
"Come here?" the old woman howled. "The wind will
be in their bones before they see the second wall. May their
eyes blister, and their tongues rot in their mouths! Never,
never! Curse the kid! Never shall they come into this
palace of"-
Che, che! Keep your vile tongue to the beggars about
you. I've a better plan. If I go down, Dennett goes with
me," muttered the foreman. He'll know it before dark to-
night. And, if he kicks and runs his luck, I'll show myself,
and offer to redeem the boy for a good ransom."
The old woman began to chuckle way down in her throat;
and Paul looked up suddenly, thinking she must be ill.
She was only laughing. She turned upon him as though she
had forgotten him.





OUR BOYS IN INDIA.


"Did you take in what that beast of a brute said to
me?" she asked fiercely.
Paul started and trembled. He had not exactly taken in
what had been said, though he had comprehended that in
some way it referred to him, and it seemed to open his eyes
a little to what was going on; though how, or what it really
was that he began to comprehend, he could not tell. He
had no idea of telling the old hag a lie, for instinctively
a lie would have been impossible to him; but in utter fear
and misery he looked at her with a bewildered stare, and
shook his head.
Guzzle the kid with your fury, and scare him out o' his
wits, as though wouldd bring the truth out o' him!" shouted
the half-caste. "But no fear: he's idiotic as an ape. Den-
nett took his senses away for everlasting, I'm thinking, in
that long pull he gave him with opium, and the like."
How is it we're to get rid of him for the time ?" asked
the old woman.
Dhondaram will take him," replied the foreman, grinning.
"I gave him a hundred rupees this morning, and promised
him as much more when the kid was well placed. I've sent
to Dennett for fifty, for doing the same thing."
"You're well for a turn, well for a turn," muttered the
old woman.
"A cursed compliment. I came by it honestly," he replied,
lighting his pipe again. But do you put on the kid's good
clothes, not the dashedest ones in the box, but common
good, and make a bundle of some more. Don't you go to
skimming the chest, and putting the cream under your own
straw pile, -for, mind you, Dennett's sharper'n the sharpest,
and he'd know, -but give the bundle and the kid to sister,




PAUL AMONG THE HINDUS.


when she goes to show her pretty face in the bazaar to-night.
On the Boomal corner, by the well, and at the old Trimmal's
fruit-booth, she'll see Dhondaram in holy contemplation. Let
her send the kid to get some fruit, leave the bundle at
Dhondaram's feet, and scatter herself so fine through that
bazaar that there'll be no finding her."
But suppose the young'n won't leave her," muttered the
old woman as she turned toward the hut.
The half-caste gave a hoarse laugh, and shouted, Never
you fear! If he's got sconce enough to draw breath when
he can't help it, he'll know better than to stick to you or
yours any longer'n he's obliged to."
The old woman went into the house. The half-caste sat
down upon the stool. He always sat upon a stool; for he
would not have any one think he was a Hindu, and could
sit upon the ground. He took the little trembling, half-
stupefied boy on his knee, and almost tenderly he asked, -
"Well, my lad, would you like to go away?"
Paul nodded. He had comprehended much more than
they thought, and, as the foreman had said, was not anxious
to remain longer where he was. Any thing would be better
than that; and yet he did not fully understand what it was
to go away.
The rough man stroked his head for a moment; then, with
a sigh, he set him down, and went into the hut, from which
the old woman soon issued, ready to dress the boy as her
son had directed.
It was a strange sensation that came over Paul as he put
on the pretty and clean suit of boy's clothes. It was like
the breaking out of the sunshine on an April evening, when,
just before it sets, the sun pierces the rich auburn clouds that




OUR BOYS IN INDIA.


have been pouring down rain all day long. You may be in
the house where you cannot see the sunshine; yet you know
instinctively that the storm has broken, and that the cheerful
light is again brightening every thing, and you feel happier
for it. You cannot help it. Paul could not tell what made
him happy. He could not tell why the pretty clothes were
so much more real to him than the rags had been. He
could not tell any thing, but that he was happier. He knew
he was happier; but he dared not laugh, lest the old woman
should take them away again. He thought of the name
" Dhondaram." It was some one who was to take care of
him; and instinctively he associated the new clothes and the
delightful memories that they seemed to awaken, and the
happiness in his heart, all with that name, and the man who
bore it; and already he began to long for the time to come
when he was to start for the bazaar with the foreman's sister.
Then he wondered what the bazaar was. He had never been
a dozen rods from that hut in his life, so far as he knew.
But he did not care what it all looked like, if Dhondaram
were only there.
The moon was already shining when the sun set; and he
was soon taken by the young woman, and led away.
Every thing was very new to Paul in the busy streets
that they soon reached, and the old ways down which they
wandered; and yet he seemed to half-remember having seen
it all before. He wondered if he were still dreaming.
The men did not wear hats and clothes, like the foreman;
but many of them were naked to the waist, at least, and had
only a light strip of cloth twisted about their legs as low down
as the knees. Some had loose cloaks hanging over their
shoulders, bound round the waist by a girdle, and falling in




PAUL AMONG THE HINDUS.


a sort of skirt over the legs to the knees. They all wore
cloth twisted in different shapes about their heads, instead
of hats.
The women were dressed in all sorts of fashions: some
had light shawls all over them, with only one eye showing
between the folds; and some were almost naked. Many of
them had silver rings on their ankles, and many more on
their arms. Some had rings in their noses, and large rings
in their ears; and they all had silver rings all over their
fingers and thumbs and toes, and colored glass rings on
their arms.
Long before Paul began to grow tired, they had reached
a corner by a well, and a half-naked native sitting behind
some baskets filled with fruit. Right at the corner a very tall
man was standing, all absorbed in thought. The young woman
who was leading Paul stopped for an instant, and, without
looking at the man, laid the bundle down at his feet, and
went on a little way. Instinctively Paul seemed to know
what it meant. He could not explain it, for the picture, more
than the words, had been left upon his mind; but he was
happier than he ever remembered having been before, and
was not at all surprised when the woman told him to go to
the fruit-vender, and ask him the price of some melons beside
him.
Paul hesitated an instant at the last moment. It was
breaking away from all that he knew any thing about in the
world. He understood perfectly that he was not coming
back again, and that he was to go away with the solemn
man standing at the corner. He turned, and looked at him.
There was something almost gentle in his face. It was very
different, at least, from the faces that he already knew; and





O UR BOYS IN INDIA.


then the new clothes, and all the happiness! Little Paul left
the woman, as she had bidden him; but, instead of going
and asking the price of the melons, he went straight to the


DHONDARAM.


side of the tall Hindu, and, extending his little white hand,
he said, in broken Hindustani, -
Here I am, Dhondaram, to go away with you."
The muni started, frowned for an instant, and looked down
at the tiny figure. But Paul had not been mistaken: little
hearts rarely are in this world. No sooner did the muni's




PAUL AMONG THE HINDUS.


black eyes rest on the large blue ones turned up to him,
and on the gold-brown hair, and the pale cheeks, and little
extended hand, than the frown melted, and all that gentle-
ness that Paul had detected came back again.
Dhondaram's plans for taking the boy were thoroughly
turned upside down by Paul's greeting. It was that that had
caused the frown; but, making the best of matters as they
were, he took the little hand in his, and, picking up the
bundle, said, -
"Very well. We will go." And they started off together.
For a while Dhondaram seemed to take no more notice
of Paul. He almost thought he had forgotten him, and clung
a little closer to his hand. The motion attracted the muni's
attention; and, looking down, he said almost gently, -
You are tired. I will carry you."
Paul did not understand precisely what he meant; but
when the strong arm was about him, and he was lifted to
the broad shoulder, he felt happier and safer, and put one
arm around the muni's neck,--an action that pleased him
much more than the gold he received from the half-caste.
They turned, very soon, out of the lighted street and into
darker alleys; and Paul clung the closer to Dhondaram. He
walked on now with rapid strides, and very soon approached
a low doorway, where three women, dressed almost like men,
were sitting and talking. They wore jewels; but they were
evidently working-women, for two of them had baskets, in
which they had been carrying something.
Fie on you, daughters of Kali! to be out here hatching
mischief at this hour. Go to your homes, and let Gunga
come in and get me some supper," said Dhondaram.
"Gunga can go, if she will, at the beck of a monster like





OUR BOYS IN INDIA.


you, who knows neither Kali nor Siva, and worships but
Krishna," retorted one of the women; "but, as for us, we
will neither leave this spot for you, nor a host just like you."
But Gunga rose; and, turning to the others with a laugh,
she said, -
Good-night till the morning, we'll meet in the temple;"
and followed Dhondaram.
Gunga knows who turns her ghi to gold," muttered
one of the women so loud that all could hear; but Gunga
made no reply, and soon had conducted the muni to a little
room that she occupied, with screens here and there, dividing
the cooking and sleeping apartments.
"What have you on your back?" asked Gunga, as she
lighted a little wick, floating in oil in a cocoanut-shell, and
turned to prepare some supper.
"A feringhi," replied Dhondaram,
"A feringhi!" she exclaimed, and turned suddenly to,
look at little Paul, who now rested on the muni's knee, as
he sat on the floor. But a sweet smile broke over Gunga's
face as she looked down into the tired blue eyes. She gently
touched the soft cheek; and then, with a quizzical smile at
Dhondaram, she said, "There must be a gold lining here, or
the holy Dhondaram would be defiled."
"It is only a child," muttered Dhondaram, "and none
of your business at the best. Get us some supper, and give
us a bed for the night. Did ever you hear of a Feringhi
Dennett? Roderick Dennett? Well, if ever you do, keep
your eye on him, Gunga, and send me word, and till then,
keep your peace."
"That I will, as I have often done for you before," said
Gunga merrily; and she began to sing a temple-song as she




















I.. .




I'






it


DAUGHTERS OF KALI.





O UR BOYS IN INDIA.


moved about behind one of the screens: for she was a sort
of priestess in a Hindu temple, a murli girl, whose duty
it was to dance and sing during a part of the service, and
in her basket she had carried flowers to throw about the
altar.
The food which Gunga set before them was of the very
simplest kind, only a dry meal-cake and cups of milk;
but Paul was hungry, and thought it far better than any thing
he had ever before tasted. On the whole, he was well sat-
isfied with the change, and would not have gone back again
for any thing.
After supper Gunga threw a coarse mat on the floor; and
turning half toward Paul, whose eyes were very heavy, she
said, -
"The little feringhi can have a mat yonder, between me
and my little sister Prita, who is already sound asleep, if he
would like it. It is a softer, better place than this."
Paul looked at Dhondaram, who bowed his head in
assent; then he extended his arms to Gunga, who stood ready
to take him upon her shoulder, as though he were light as a
feather, though she herself seemed to him but a little girl.
She kissed his cheek softly, as she carried him behind another
screen, and there laid him carefully upon a rug on the floor,
giving him her arm for a pillow, where he fell asleep before
he had hardly time to realize how happy and comfortable he
was.
Before daylight he was awakened by the little sister Prita,
who was kneeling beside him, kissing his hand.
"You are a very pretty little Ingrij," she said. Can you
understand what I say ?"
Paul rubbed his eyes, and answered, "Yes."



























































BOATS AND BOATMEN OF THE GAiNGE


~=-~-~-~-~-~I~;,~_~-~~


~; ;-~-----

F~-




OUR BOYS IN INDIA.


"Where did you learn to talk like me?" asked the girl.
Paul wondered where, and rubbed his eyes again; for it
suddenly seemed to him that he had not always talked like
that.
You must get up, and let me wash you, and comb your
hair; for you must eat breakfast soon, and go away," she
added sadly.
I don't want to go away," sobbed Paul. But he got up;
and the little girl began to bathe him as he had never been
bathed before, so far as he could remember. She gathered
up all the mats, and left only the smooth stone floor.. Then
she brought a jug of water, somewhat like a kuja, only
larger, and, after taking off his clothes, began turning it over
him, a little at a time, and rubbing him gently with her soft
hand. Then she wiped him, rubbed his body with something
that smelled so nice he thought he would like to drink it,
and then dressed him, and carefully combed his hair.
I'm very sure I don't want to have you go," she said;
"but we must do as Dhondaram says, and perhaps he will
bring you back again. If I were only a little older, so that
I could go to the temple too, it would be better. But
Dhondaram is very kind. He will never hurt. you. Were
you born in England? How long have you been in India?"
Little Prita chatted on, because Paul did not seem in-
clined to answer; and she forgot one question as soon as
she had put it, and began another. But Paul did not forget
them. They set him thinking, and thinking so hard that he
had no time to answer. It had never occurred to him that
he must have been born somewhere; and the more he won-
dered, the more confused he became. But the thinking was
sure to amount to something in time.




PAUL AMONG THE HINDUS.


They had rice and milk for breakfast; and, comforted by
Dhondaram's promise that he should surely come back again,
Paul once more mounted the broad shoulder, and left the little
room and the low arched doorway, and, after a short walk,
came out upon a broad river.
There were very few people to be seen till they came out
upon the river-bank; for it was only the gray dusk before
dawning, and the sky in the east was just turning red for
the sunrise. Dhondaram wanted to get away without at-
tracting attention, for he realized that he had undertaken a
very difficult task. He could get the best of any Hindu
or Mussulman that lived. He had often tried it, and always
succeeded. The half-caste foreman had selected him to help
him out of his difficulty, as the man of all men who was
able to do it. But to carry his point against the English
police, when to do it he had got to keep a little white boy
out of their hands, was quite another undertaking. It had
taken more than a hundred rupees from the foreman to induce
Dhondaram to attempt it. The foreman had not dared to tell
his mother it had cost him over a thousand rupees to get
out of the fraud into which Roderick Dennett had drawn him.
And he himself was ignorant of the fact that it was not at
all his gift of a thousand rupees, and promise of as much
more, but something entirely outside of that, that had induced
the Hindu \muni, Dhondaram, to undertake the difficult en-
gagement.
There was a score of boatmen on the river-bank when
they reached- it. Some were cooking their breakfast, some
eating it. All were preparing for a fresh start, for boatmen
will not sail at night in India unless it is absolutely necessary.
There are several reasons for it. The Hindu rivers are




OUR BOYS IN INDIA.


very hard to navigate, and the Hindus very superstitious.
Beside this, they are never in a hurry. If time and tide
will not wait for them, they are satisfied to let time and tide go
on without them.
Paul was a little frightened at the sight of the rugged,
almost naked boatmen, with their smoothly shaven heads,
where only a little tuft of hair was left on the very top.
That tuft was never cut at all, but twisted up in a little knot.
They were singing and shouting and praying and eating and
cooking in a terrible confusion; but when Paul looked down
at the man upon whose shoulder he sat, to find him taller
and stronger than any of them, and when he saw how those
rough boatmen knelt and touched their foreheads to the
ground as he and the muni passed them, he lost his fear,
and only realized a still greater confidence in Dhondaram.
"What is this water?" Paul asked, as Dhondaram was
preparing to take him on to a boat that seemed to be ready
for them.
It is the sacred Ganges," replied the muni solemnly, set-
ting Paul down on the bank for a moment, and making an
humble obeisance to the river. It flows directly out of the
mouth of the incomprehensible Bramha," he added; and Paul
drew a long breath, and tried to understand it.
The sun was just rising as they passed the city proper,
at the outskirts of which they had embarked. The boat in
which they sailed was a curious contrivance. Paul was sure
he had never seen a boat before; yet as they pushed off
from shore, and began to rise and fall on the little waves,
there was something so natural, that again and again he
looked out of the little window and over the dancing ripples,
as though he could almost see something there, almost hear





PAUL AMONG THE HINDUS.


some one speak to him, almost discover something that he
had begun very seriously to long to know.
There was one mast to their boat, and a huge triangular
sail attached to it. There was a little house with curious
doors and windows in the stern; and there they were destined
to eat and sleep for
many days, while a
slowly making their -___ -
way up the Gan- -
ges and one of its __
branches, stopping
every night- by the
bank till the morn- ..
ing.
As they passed
along the border
of the city, the
boats became very
numerous in the
river; and Dhon-
daram drew the
blinds, or bamboo
awnings, before the
window where Paul
sat. It did not A CURIOUS CONTRIVANCE.
prevent his looking out, however. There were beautiful
towers rising up almost from the water's edge. But, when
they had passed the city, they seemed once more to sink
into the mists, that there had not fully risen from the river.
Once more Dhondaram opened the bamboo blinds; and,
leaning out of the window, Paul watched the water splash-





OUR BOYS IN INDIA.


ing against the boat, till suddenly
to strange figures along the bank,
mists, moving slowly up and down,
piles.


his attention was drawn
just discernible in the
or lying still in hideous


CROCODILES.


"What are they?" he asked, eagerly pointing toward the
shore.
"Crocodiles," muttered Dhondaram; and, with a peculiar
smile, he added, "They are very sacred animals. We make
sacrifices to them; and sometimes little children are thrown
into the water, for those crocodiles to eat them up."





PAUL AMONG THE HINDUS. 47

Paul started, turned pale, trembled a little, and looked
up into Dhondaram's face. The muni looked quietly into
the blue eyes for an instant; then, with scarcely a perceptible
change of countenance, he lifted his hand, and stroked the
golden-brown hair. Paul nestled closer to him. He was not
afraid of being thrown to the crocodiles. Oh, no! not so
long as Dhondaram was near.




OUR BOYS IN INDIA.


CHAPTER V.

WILD LIFE ON THE RIVER, AND A HINDU FEAST.

P the sacred Ganges and one of its great tributaries
they sailed; and it seemed to Paul that they must
be going a long way off from everywhere, especially
from the city where the little Gunga and her tiny
sister Prita lived. He did not know the name of it: but
he grew brighter and clearer in his mind each day, and
comprehended more of what he saw; and, to his own sur-
prise, he seemed to understand a great many new things
without asking. He had learned, too, the way to the stern
heart of the muni, and had not the least fear of Dhondaram.
When he awoke in the morning, and found him out on the
river-bank, engaged in a sort of fierce devotion, his eyes
flashing, his body writhing about in terrible contortions, while
he placed fire in his open palms, and cut his flesh with little
knives, Paul would go right up to him, and, putting his arms
fearlessly about his neck, would kiss him, and cry, Stop,
stop! don't do that!" while the boatmen, who would as soon
have had a hand cut off as to have disturbed him, would
look on in horror, till they found that the frown disappeared,
instead of gathering deeper on the dark brow of Dhon-
daram, and that, taking the child in his arms, he would go
back to the boat, to wait till some other time to finish his
terrible devotions.
The water of the river was very yellow with mud as they




WILD LIFE ON THE RIVER.


went up, and every day they passed bodies of dead animals
that were floating down; yet at every little village that they
passed, and at every encampment, there were many people
bathing in the water, especially at sunrise in the morning.
And while they bathed they prayed, and threw the water over


"THEY ARE COMING TO BATHE THE IDOL."


their faces. "They think it sacred. They believe they are
washing their sins away," said Dhondaram.
One morning, just after they had started for the day, they
heard a loud noise of singing and shouting on the banks,
beyond a little jungle ahead of them. Dhondaram drew
the awnings over the windows, and sat on the floor by the
side of Paul. Soon they passed the cause of the noise. In





OUR BOYS IN INDIA.


the lead was a band of girls, whirling about each other, sing-
ing and dancing, with soft, white cloth wound gracefully about
them, and garlands of flowers upon their necks and round
their waists. Behind them came Bramhan priests, shouting,
and waving heavy wands in the air, and bearing an image
on a litter.
"What is the matter, Dhondaram?" asked Paul, alarmed
more at the serious face of his protector than at any danger
he could conceive of from the happy throng upon the bank.
"They are bringing the god of the temple down, to bathe
it in the Ganges. If the boatmen say I am a muni, they will
stop us, and I shall have to help them. But we must not
stop: we cannot. If I stop, I shall tell the boatmen to go
on with you."
Paul caught Dhondaram's hand, and shook his head. The
muni smiled, and continued,-
"You shall not fear, for it will only be for an hour. I
shall hurry up the river, and meet you. But they will not
stop us," he added, as the boat was pulled past the point
where the murlis, or dancing-girls, were approaching the
river, and no one paid it any attention.
They made slow progress up the river, especially when
the wind was against them, so that they could not use the
sail, or the current ran fast. Then the boatmen were
obliged to take the oars, which they did not fancy, and some-
times even to take a long rope, and go on shore with it,
walking along the bank, and pulling the boat after them, which
they disliked still more. And the worst of all was when the
banks were so covered with jungle, or forest-growth, to the
very water's edge, that the only way they could do was to
start on in a little boat with the rope, and, fastening it to a




WILD LIFE ON THE RIVER.


tree as far ahead as was possible, draw the large boat up to
it, and then go on again.
When they came to anchor at night, Paul would run and
play upon the sand, while the boatmen built a fire, and Dhon-
daram, with his own hands, prepared the supper. Like the
breakfast, it, consisted of a simple preparation of rice, made
hot with something like mustard, that they called curry, pre-
pared from several kinds of green leaves and spices mashed,
and ground to a soft pulp between two stones. With this
they had fruit, bananas, plantain, dates, tamarinds, pome-
granates, and, best of all, sweet limes as large as oranges,
of which Paul was very fond. He made an exclamation of
delight the first time that he tasted them, and from that day
there was always a bamboo tray of sweet limes lying on the
floor of the little cabin.
When there was a jungle near their stopping-place, Dhon-
daram always warned Paul not to go near it; and even Paul
noticed, that, wherever he went, and no matter what the tall,
grim muni was doing, he never looked back without finding
his two piercing black eyes fixed upon him. The old witch
used to watch him in that way; and it made him tremble; but
he only felt the safer now, to know that he was not for a
moment out of the sight of his friend. Richard Raymond
would have shuddered had he known, Scott would have
trembled could he have been told, that little Paul was laugh-
ing in the face -of the terrible Dhondaram.
Once when he had wandered too near to a jungle, Dhon-
daram hurried toward him, and, catching him in his arms, went
back to the boat with him.
"There are ugly tigers in there," he muttered. "You do
not want to meet one of them."




OUR BOYS IN INDIA.


"Why not?" asked Paul.
"They would kill you," replied the muni.
"What would that matter?" asked Paul, very little under-
standing what it was to be killed, or what he was saying, and
yet half realizing after all.
The muni looked at him silently for a moment. Then,
brushing a tear from his eyes, he said huskily, "Your little
lips have kissed Dhondaram. You neither hate nor fear
him."
No, indeed, I am not afraid of you!" exclaimed Paul,
throwing his arms around the muni's neck, and kissing him
again. "And I shall never be killed while you take care of
me."
Dhondaram looked about him hurriedly, to be sure that
none of the boatmen saw.
One night they had eaten their supper, and were at
anchor a little way out in the stream; for the current was
slow, and the jungles were close upon the bank. The boat-
men had usually built fires at night, to keep the wild beasts
from coming to the water near where they were anchored;
but there were villages within sight of the boat to-night,
and Dhondaram did not want, to attract the attention of the
villagers, who would be sure to come down and make them
a call. So they only pushed out farther than usual; and the
sun went down, and the moon rose, and the boatmen lay
stretched over the deck, sound asleep. Paul had been asleep,
but was wakened by Dhondaram, who was praying, and
fiercely beating himself. Getting up from his mat, Paul went
to the muni, but had hardly reached his side, when from the
distant bank there sounded a shrieking whistle. Dhondaram
st-ated to his feet. He listened intently for a moment. There




WILD LIFE ON THE RIVER. 53

was a sharp cracking and swaying of the branches on the
other side of the river, that there was not a quarter of a
mile wide. Some large body was forcing its way through at
no easy pace. Suddenly the muni disappeared in the cabin,



i~----~ ---











/,o /
IMWO-















THE MAD ELEPHANT.

but re-appeared in a moment, carrying a bundle. Paul had
not time to ask what it was; for his eyes were fixed on a
huge, dingy form that loomed up on the opposite bank.
"It is only an elephant," said Paul, who had seen them
carrying burdens along the river-bank.





54 OUR BOYS IN INDIA.

"A mad elephant," muttered Dhondaram, watching him
intently.
"What makes him mad?" asked Paul.
"I don't know. But he is alone, and a wild elephant
never goes alone unless he's mad. Ha!" he exclaimed, as
the huge elephant seemed to have noticed them, and at once
dashed into the water, and began to swim rapidly toward the
boat.
"Not yet, not yet," muttered Dhondaram, catching Paul
in his arms, and setting him on his shoulder, while he bal-
anced the bundle on his head. It is not written in Dhon-
daram's forehead that he die at the will of a wild elephant, or
a tame one either." And with his burden he slipped silently
over the edge of the boat, away from the approaching animal.
Fortunately, being able to wade, he moved rapidly toward the
shore. When the bank was almost gained, and the water not
more than waist deep, a sudden splash sounded a little way
up the river; and Paul, whose eyes had been fixed on the
approaching elephant, turned with a cry of fear to see the
great glistening jaws of a crocodile opened wide, less than
ten feet away. But Dhondaram was strong and supple.
His lithe body sank into the water to the shoulder. Then
he sprang forward. The lumbering crocodile swung about,
and his great jaws came together with a resounding click
that would have made a stronger heart than little Paul's stand
still. The maddened creature turned about, and opened the
horrible jaws again; but Dhondaram had gained on him.
In a moment more he was bounding along the bank, now
with a foot in the water where the trees crowded him,
now flying like the wind on the sand. But the signal had
been given; and all up and down the river, with many a




WILD LIFE ON THE RIVER.


grunt and snort, they heard the sleeping crocodiles awaking,
and swinging their heads back, to open the terrible mouths
ready to close like a vice on any thing that might fall into
them. But holding Paul firmly on his shoulder, and the
bundle on his head, without a sound the Hindu bounded
on, seeming hardly to touch the earth, resting his foot for an
instant against the very nose of a crocodile, to be ten feet
away before the animal could close his glistening rows of
savage teeth.
Then there was a terrible splashing and crashing behind
them; and, looking back over the moonlit water, Paul could
see the boat flying into a thousand pieces under the wrath of
the mad elephant, and hear the cries and groans of the boat-
men, suddenly aroused from sleep to find themselves doomed
to death. And the little hands clasped the muni's neck
more closely, as Paul realized the terror from which he had
saved him.
They were well away from the river, and in a broad, open
plain, before the muni paused, and, looking cautiously about
him to assure himself that there was no other danger at hand,
laid his burden tenderly down, and asked, -
"Has the little feringhi had a pleasant ride?"
"The poor boat Wallahs! They are all dead," replied
Paul, thinking of the boatmen.
"It was written in their foreheads," said Dhondaram in-
differently, "but not in mine."
"But if you had staid there you would have been dead
too," said Paul, with a logic so simple, that the greatest theo-
logians are only just finding out how full of force it is.
But I did not stay," replied the muni. And, after waiting
a moment to gather strength and breath, he untied the package,





OUR BOYS IN INDIA.


which Paul now saw contained his bundle of clothes and a
bamboo sack of sweet limes. Giving the boy two of the sweet
limes, he replaced the bundle on his head; and, taking Paul
again on his shoulder, he said, -
"You can eat those to keep you awake when you are
sleepy. We have a long way to go. We should have reached

--P U


THE LONG ROAD.


the end of our journey to-morrow night. Now we must reach
it to-morrow morning instead, for there are two villages that
we must go past before daylight."
So they started on; and all night long the muni kept at a
steady, rapid pace, never flinching or swerving from the track
that he seemed to be as sure of as though it were his home.
Before the sun had risen, they passed the last of the villages





WILD LIFE ON THE RIVER.


that Dhondaram wanted to avoid. But the people were
already engaged at the morning worship, and were lying on
their faces, falling on their knees, beating their foreheads
to the ground, and crying and howling before a rude little
temple, where Paul could just discern a hideous image, that


THE GODDESS KAL.


reminded him so much of the old witch, that instinctively he
tried to shrink away from it.
"What is it?" he asked timidly.
"The goddess Kali, the wife of the great Siva, the
powerful Mother of Destruction. She kills every thing."
How do they dare to be so near, and pray to her?" asked
Paul again.
"They are praying to her to keep away from them," replied





OUR BOYS IN INDIA.


the muni, smiling in a peculiar way, as he pressed a little
nearer to the jungle to escape observation. Her hair touches
the ground behind her. She has three red eyes. Her lips
and tongue are dripping with blood. She has dead bodies for
rings in her ears. Once she had only two arms; but, when her
husband was in trouble, she sacrificed an arm to save him, and
now she has four. She is standing on the body of a god, and
has the head of a mortal in her hand. Her girdle is made of
the hands she has cut off from the arms of her enemies, and
her necklace is skulls."
I would not pray to her," said Paul with a shiver.
"You would, if praying would keep her away from you, I
think," replied Dhondaram.
"You do not pray to her, do you?" the child asked.
"There are so many gods, that it is impossible to pray to
all," said the muni.
"How many gods are there?" asked Paul.
"About three hundred and thirty millions," replied the
muni, a smile of derision curling his lips again, for all the fact
that he, too, was among the humble devotees at the altars
of those innumerable gods.
"Why don't I pray, Dhondaram?" the boy questioned,
after vainly trying to gain any idea of how many three hundred
and thirty millions might be.
"You are an Ingrij," returned Dhondaram.
"And what is that?"
"You were not born in India. You are different."
"Where was I born ?"
"I do not know," replied the muni almost impatiently.
"If I had been born here, should I pray as you do?"
"No: you are white."





WILD LIFE ON THE RIVER.


"Does being white make me different?"
"No: being different makes you white."
"I wish I were not different. I wish I were like you,
Dhondaram."
"But you would not be, if you knew me well. And you
could not be, for it is not written in your forehead."
"What is it that is written in your forehead ? asked Paul,
rubbing his little white hand over the furrowed brow of the
dark Hindu.
Nothing good, nothing good. There is nothing good
in Dhondaram," replied the muni with a shudder.
"There is! there is !" cried the boy sharply. "Who wrote
what is bad?"
"The God of Fate."
"I will kill him when I am a man! said Paul fiercely.
"Che! che!" whispered the muni: "say it softly;" for,
although he had smiled in derision, he was yet fearful that
there might be some evil following such a remark.
"Are there many people who are white ?" asked Paul.
"Some," replied the muni briefly; for he had been walking
hard all night, and was not only tired, but very anxious. Little
Paul did not dream how he, sitting so comfortably on that
broad shoulder, was making the strong man tremble.
They turned now along the river-bank; and, in the gray
mists that lay there just before morning, they saw little flicker-
ing lamps floating down the stream.
"What are they, Dhondaram ?" cried Paul. "They seem
like Paul almost said, Fourth of July." It was on the very
tip of his tongue; and yet, when he stopped and wondered
what it was that he was about to say, he could not remember.
Some happy thought had flashed before his mind: he was sure




OUR BOYS IN INDIA.


of it. He laughed even then under the bright influence; but
what it was, was like all the rest,- hidden just beyond his
reach. It must have been some dream," he said to himself,
as Dhondaram replied, -
Those lamps are offerings to the river, by the women of
the city just above. They are little wicks floating in oil, in
wooden boats."
But Paul cared less about the boats than the problem he
was solving concerning himself. And as they turned down a
broad avenue lined with magnificent palms, and with beautiful
flowers in an endless profusion everywhere, he began again, -
"Are there many white people, Dhondaram?"
"A few," replied the muni, hardly knowing what he said;
for the city was yet two miles ahead, and the sun was almost
rising.
"I never "-Paul hesitated. He was about to say that he
never had seen any, when it suddenly seemed to him as though
he had seen many. Do they live far from here? he asked.
"White people live everywhere," said Dhondaram with
a frown; for far in the distance he saw several people coming
down the way from the city. And the domes and minarets
were now plainly visible through the trees, a half-mile away.
He began to realize, that, after all his struggle, it would be
impossible to get into the gate, and down the by-ways, where
he knew many a hiding-place, without attracting attention to
the little boy upon his shoulder. Paul's questions about
white people added to this fear; for, in truth, he knew that
there were many white people living in the city.
Just then an owl gave a farewell hoot to the dying night,
from his perch in a banyan-tree not far away, and an ass brayed
in the field to the left. They were two omens that were the





WILD LIFE ON THE RIVER.


worst that could have been given to the anxious Hindu; and
while he waited for a moment, wondering if he had better
disregard them and go on, a wild hare ran across the road in
front of him. Had the voice of God sounded, telling him in
so many words to go no farther with the child, he could not
have been more sure.
"What are you waiting for?" asked Paul.
"I am thinking you must be tired," Dhondaram replied.
"You have been riding all night. You shall not go into the
city till evening. You shall stop at this house here and sleep,
while I go in and find a good friend, where we will live for the
present."
"I would rather go with you, Dhondaram!" exclaimed
Paul, clinging to the muni's neck, and beginning to sob;
for he was very tired and sleepy, though he did not realize
it.
"I shall not go away at once, and I shall be back before
long for you," said Dhondaram, turning boldly up toward a
little hut that lay half hidden in the verdant jungle that bor-
dered on the road.
It was a beautiful little spot, and at the first sight Paul
was delighted with the prospect of waiting there. Dhonda-
ram set him upon the ground, and let him run beside him.
The house was built in two separate parts. At the left
stood the working-part, without any front wall, but a sort of
booth arranged in front, as though the owner sold something
through the day; and at the right was the sleeping-hut, with
only one very small door and a very small window.
Dhondaram approached the working-hut, but it was empty.
There was nothing on the booth, and only the pots and
kuja standing behind, and a smouldering fire in a round





OUR BOYS IN INDIA.


hole in the centre of the room. The family were evidently
Hindus, judging from their pots and the arrangements of the
hut; and, seeing several empty tobacco bunniahs lying, about,
Dhondaram at once determined that the owner of the hut
was a tobacconist.
Knowledge is power. That is the muni's motto; and, not


N
U
c,= \~


to be wholly without knowledge, and seem too much like a
stranger, Dhondaram called aloud, -
"Ha! you biri wallah" (tobacco-dealer), "come out and
show yourself if you are an honest man."
A woman's head was thrust a little way out of the door of
the other hut.
"Who calls? There's nothing to sell to-day. Go on to
the festival." But, seeing that it was a muni who spoke, she





WILD LIFE ON THE RIVER.


put her head a little farther out, and made an obeisance, put-
ting her hands to her forehead. The muni returned her
salaam, and, without waiting for any further introduction,
said, -
Look to what I tell you, mother of an evil-doer. It is ill
that you bid one of the gods' selected to leave your house, and
go his way. I want no purchasing from such as you, and I
will go my way to the festival when it pleases me. Mark what
I say: it is ill for you that I go without leaving you indebted
to me for an opportunity, well accepted, to serve the Mother."
Of all this the stupid woman understood as little as did
Paul; but she realized that she had offended a wandering
muni, which is not a very safe thing, for the poor at least, to
do, and she hastened to reply, -
Ask what you will of me, and in the name of the Mother
I will do it, and do it without pay."
"Do it you will, and do it without pay; and woe to you
or any one who would not! But that it may be the better
done, if you do well I will pay you well."
The woman touched her forehead to the ground. The
muni continued, -
"This little feringhi who is in my care has the Bramhanical
blessing. He is weary, and before we enter the city he must
rest. Give him the best you have, and let him sleep. I will
lie and rest me in the shop, and later I will come for him."
"We are not outcasts," said the woman, trembling; for
she feared that she should lose caste or defile herself by tak-
ing the little white boy into her dirty hut. Dhondaram was
instantly angry, or appeared to be. He turned suddenly, and,
with his back to the woman, he threw dust at her with his
foot.





O UR BOYS IN INDIA.


Lower than the lowest! viler than the vilest! eat dirt and
be defiled. Go hence a beggar. Thus saith a Bramhan of the
Bramhans."
It had the desired effect. The woman fell upon her face
with a wail.
"Let him come in. Let the feringhi have all and more
than all. Come in and find the best, and give it him. Let
me sit by him and keep ill from him while he sleeps. Let me
be his slave, but keep thy curse."
"I'll see how you perform yourself. Come out of the
house. I will not defile myself by going in till you are out."
Creeping on her knees, the woman came out of the low
door; and, leading Paul by the hand, Dhondaram entered.
There were only two rooms, and very simple; but he soon
prepared a comfortable mat, and, assuring Paul that the woman
would not dare to do any thing but the very best for him,
he left him lying on the mat, with no ornament or piece of
furniture to attract his attention (for there was nothing of the
sort in the little room), and with several sweet limes to eat
when he should wake up. The boy was so used to strange
surroundings, that he hardly paid them any attention ; but
before the voice of Dhondaram had ceased to sound, in
conversation with the woman outside, he was fast asleep.
Creeping in to see that all was well, the old woman crept
out again to talk over the event with her nearest neighbor.
There was to be a great festival in the city; and the neigh-
bor, owning two bullocks and a cart, was going to carry into
the city all of his friends who could get on, to participate
in the very holy festival and merry-making. The old woman's
son, who kept the tobacco-booth, had already gone to the
city, and she did not propose to be left out.




WILD LIFE ON THE RIVER.


Regardless of the promise she had made to the muni, and
the boy who lay sleeping in her hut, she took the advice of
her neighbor, and made herself ready to go in the cart. It
came rattling to her door, with its two noisy wheels and no
springs, the long pole resting on a sort of crossbar, that, in
turn, rested on the necks of the two bullocks, just in front
of a huge hump growing on the fore-shoulders of each, almost
like the bump on a camel, and effectually doing away with
the need of a yoke.
Once more the
old woman crept in,
and looked at the
child. Paul was
soundly sleeping.
Then again she crept
out, got into the cart,
and was gone.
It was past noon
when little Paul
awoke, rubbed his
eyes, sat erect, and NATIVE CAT.
wondered where he was. He had had so many strange
impressions of late, that it was some time before out of
them all he resolved the present, and was sure of what
had happened just before he went to sleep. But there were
the sweet limes, at least; and he ate one of them while he
waited for some one to appear. No one came; and he got
up and went out. Every thing was deserted. He called
Dhondaram, but received no answer. He remembered that
he had said he should go to the city, and the city was plainly
in sight. He must be coming back by this time, Paul thought,




OUR BOYS IN INDIA.


and at once made up his mind to go toward the city, and
meet him. He put two sweet limes in his pocket, and began
eating a third, for he was very hungry, and started on. On
the way he met a little naked Hindu boy with some bananas,
and he gave him a sweet lime for two of them. Paul thought
he had made a good trade, and the Hindu was sure that
he had. The two bananas satisfied his hunger, and kept him
busy till he was very near the gate of the city.
Every thing was so strange and interesting to Paul, that
he forgot about Dhondaram, and forgot about himself. He
never thought of being alone, or of being afraid. It seemed
more like one of the old dreams than any thing real; and at
last he reached the gate. Inside there was a dense crowd,
but outside there were very few. It was a gloomy gray wall
that surrounded the city, and a gloomy gateway. Inside he
could see all sorts of bright costumes and bright colors, and
hear the music and shouting, that betokened the happiness
of every one engaged in the religious feast. It drew him like
a magic spell. He was hurrying in, when his eye fell upon
an old beggar sitting beside the gate, and a little boy close
to him.
Paul was not sufficiently versed to know by the dress and
position what the old man was: indeed, he hardly looked at
him a second time. But a cry of joy burst from his lips as
he saw the boy beside him. In his own boy's heart he thought
it the prettiest face he had ever seen. That tantalizing picture
that had so often come almost into his mind, and then slipped
away again, once more appeared; and he seemed to half
remember, merry times that he had had somewhere, with
merry children all about him. He ran across the road; and,
sitting down on the mat close to the little black-eyed, black-























































































BEGGAR AND BOY.





OUR BOYS IN INDIA.


haired boy, he touched a lock of the curling hair with his
dainty little white, finger, and, looking into the child's face,
in a spasm of joy he kissed the dark lips that were half open
over the tiny white teeth. The child shrieked, and sprang
upon the old man's knee, rubbing his lips furiously, to wipe
away the kiss.
Paul stepped back, and watched him doubtfully.
I didn't mean to scare you, little boy," he said apolo-
getically. But I don't believe I hurt you like that. My lips
are not dirty, are they? he asked, suddenly remembering
that he had been eating. He wiped his mouth carefully on
his sleeve. You can put mud on your mouth, and kiss me
to pay, if you like. I'm sorry; but I don't think I am like
you, for I was made white."
Paul had mingled some English words with his Hindu-
stani without knowing it; and at best the boy did not
understand much Hindustani either, for there are many
languages spoken in India. But he understood enough to
know that it was an apology; and, pouting, he slipped off the
old man's knee again. Paul was disheartened, however, and
was turning away, when he bethought him of the last sweet
lime that remained in his pocket; and as he took it out,
and held it up, the boy's eyes brightened, and his little hand
was extended instantly.
"You like sweet limes better than you do kisses," said
Paul a little sarcastically, as he turned away, and entered the
gate.
Throngs of people crowded the streets. Every one was
talking and shouting. On almost any other day there would
have been swearing and terrible cursing by people who were
so used to it that they really did not know that they were































,,rC.

r.i
I n i


i~ ~ ~


IF--- .- k
-m:r-oS 1


@L. ~ -


THE HINDU FEAST.


~~"~
I
l.S;

itl:i~~ ;- -
I -


-
e~ In-~''


"~-~"~~t~~
~F5
'"





O UR BOYS IN INDIA.


cursing at all. There would have been venders of all sorts
of every thing, and every one would have been hurrying in
his own way. But to-day was the great festival, and every
one was good natured.
No one seemed to notice little Paul, as he bent his steps
this way and that, catching glimpses of pretty things that
pleased him as he slowly worked his way toward where he
heard the loudest music, intent upon reaching the spot if it
took him all day: and it seemed very likely to; for, if he
had thought of it, the sun was sinking very low, and the air
was growing red with the approaching sunset.
Soon, however, the music helped him out by beginning
to come toward him. There were huge elephants as far as
the eye could reach, with magnificent golden kowdahs, or cars,
upon their backs; and flags were flying, and priests, with all
sorts of instruments, were making all sorts of noises; and every-
where the boys, and even the men too, were firing fire-crackers
to make more noise. There was little in harmony; and, as
for the music, it was horrible, there is no doubt of it: but
Paul had not an educated ear; and the excitement was so new
and grand to him, that, for a little time, he seemed in the
seventh heaven. But the procession was very long, and the
crowd was very rude, and little Paul was jostled about in
every direction.
The first of the long line of elephants was out of sight
in one direction, and still there was no end to the line in the
other. Some one stepped heavily upon Paul's foot. The
pain brought tears to his eyes. He struggled to get out of
the crowd. He wanted to go home, when it suddenly oc-
curred to him that he had no home. He would go back to
the place where Dhondaram had left him. But where was




WILD LIFE ON THE RIVER.


it? He had no idea. And where was Dhondaram? It
came upon him, in all its force, that he had lost every thing,
just at the moment that he had begun to have something
worth keeping. What could he do? He was too miserable
to cry. It would only have clogged his throat, when he was
choking already.
While he was uncertainly yielding to every pressure of
the crowd, not caring what became of him, he had been
pushed nearer and nearer the path of the elephants; and now,
as he looked up, the gloomy shadow of one of those great
blue-black creatures was right upon him, with all its be-
spangling gold and silver, and beautifully embroidered blankets,
and a little temple on its back,- all of glistening gold.
The driver, with a pointed iron bar in his hand with
which to guide the elephant, was sitting on his head, and
saw Paul in the path. He shouted to him to get away: but
Paul did not see or hear either the elephant -or its driver;
for suddenly his eyes were riveted on the figure of a man,
tall and broad-shouldered, towering above the other Bramhans,
walking before the elephant, playing on a native instrument.
Dhondaram! Dhondaram cried Paul in a shrill voice;
and rushing before the elephant, whose great trunk must
have struck him and knocked him down, had he not care-
fully lifted it out of the child's way, Paul sprang into the arms
of his muni friend.
A sharp, bitter contortion distorted every feature of Dhon-
daram's face, as he recognized his charge, and heard his
own name shouted in that throng. He had made discoveries
that had horrified him on reaching the city; and, thanking
Heaven that the boy was safe outside, he had bearded the
lion in his den, and, to throw off suspicion, was marching




OUR BOYS IN INDIA.


there in that procession, under the very eye of officials who
were searching for him, when "Dhondaram!" rang from
the lips of the little boy, and Paul leaped into his arms.
For an instant the black eyes rested on the little figure. It
was a moment when life and death were but a hair's breadth
apart. He could drop the child there, and possibly escape
alone. The arms relaxed. Whatever his original motive had
been, in taking charge of Paul, it evidently would not stand
this test.
"Dhondaram! Dhondaram!" rang from a hundred voices
in that crowd, as that magic name sounded, sending a thrill
of fear into many a heart, and making many a coward quail.
Paul did not even wonder why.
In an instant that horde might fix upon him, and tear
him in pieces. Dhondaram knew it well. It was growing
dark. The procession had already begun to light torches
here and there, and all was an uncertain mass in the con-
flicting cross-lights. The momentary bush was simply because
the crowd were waiting to know just where and which Dhon-
daram was.
The muni looked steadily into the large blue eyes. They
were laughing and happy. In that instant the arm tightened
again about the little figure. He is not afraid of me. He
kissed Dhondaram!" the muni muttered; and, bending for-
ward with his burden, he sprang under the elephant beside
him just as a hand was laid upon his shoulder.
All that Paul realized was that he was wrapped beneath
the robe of his friend, who hurried one way and another.
He was painfully crushed sometimes; but he only realized
that there was danger of some sort, and heroically ground
the suffering between his little teeth without uttering a sound





WILD LIFE ON THE RIVER.


that might hinder his protector's escape, till finally the cries
became more distant, and the pace of Dhondaram slower
and more regular. When Paul opened his eyes again, through
the folds of the priest's robe he saw that they were in a very
narrow street, where all was dark, except for torches that
were smoking on occasional booths, where there were people
without any bright-colored clothes, and where there was no
room for elephants.
Sometimes a calf or
a cow stood in the
way, or a donkey
with his burden
almost filled the
breadth of the
path, and there
was shouting and
wrangling; but no
one was shouting
the name of Dhon-
daram now, and
a moment later
they turned into a
still narrower alley, A NARROW BTREET,
where the houses rose up above their heads till they seemed
to touch the sky. Here hardly any one was passing, and
there was very little noise. Here, too, Dhondaram walked
still more slowly, and soon turned into a narrow doorway, and
entered a small room opening from a court.
There, with a sigh, he laid the burden down upon a
coarse mat, lit a taper, and looked long and earnestly into
the pale face and large blue eyes.





74 OUR BOYS IN INDIA.

The little Ingrij was frightened," he said, gently touch-
ing the golden-brown hair.
I was frightened till I found you, Dhondaram, and now
I am hungry," said Paul, sitting up, and patting the dark
hand.
Dhondaram hurried out, locking the door behind him;
but in a moment he was back again with rice, cakes, and
milk, and Paul noticed that his little bundle of clothes and
the bag of sweet limes were already in the room.





SCOTT IN THE MYSTERIES OF INDIA.


CHAPTER VI.

SCOTT IN THE MYSTERIES OF INDIA.

S','--lT was growing dark when the steamer on which Scott
Clayton and Richard Raymond had so long been
passengers came in sight of the beautiful harbor
of Bombay. In the distance they obtained a fine
view of the clusters of islands upon one of which the city
of Bombay is built. But the gray dusk of night lay over the
harbor, and the flash from the new Colaba light dazzled them
as they passed it.
The steamer made slow progress, for the water was liter-
ally filled with fishing-craft. Scott could see the quaint out-
line as they crept through the forest of boats, and at last
he was interested in every thing. This was the land toward
which all his hopes were turned; and he eagerly drank in
every item, that he might the more rapidly become acquainted
with it all.
The steamer was delayed in waiting for a pilot, for the
pilots of Bombay are a very independent set of fellows.
"They'll come when they get good and ready, and not
before," remarked the captain gruffly, as he stood watching
for their light.
"Why is that ?" asked Scott. "I should think they would
want the job."
"So they might," said the captain: "but there's a club
of them; and they all get their percentage, no matter who
takes in the ship."





OUR BOYS IN INDIA.


Then, why don't you go in yourself, and cheat the whole
of them?" said Scott. "That's what I'd do."
I'd have to pay the pilot-fee all the same, as soon as I
came to anchor," replied the captain. And then, if I did
any damage to myself or any one else, I'd be well punished
for it by the court. That's all."





S- -


COAST OF BOMBAY.
And quite enough," observed Scott. Then the pilot-boat
appeared.
"They've stocked their lockers, and now they'll take us
in," said the captain as he went on deck, meaning that they
had waited to finish supper before coming out.
Slowly, very slowly, the steamer crept up, and rounded
the point, when suddenly all the lights of the circling city
came into view, extending for several miles away in the




SCOTT IN THE MYSTERIES OF INDIA.


distance. All over the water, too, were the lights of almost
innumerable ships; for Bombay is the great importation port
of India.
No sooner were the papers signed than the decks were
swarming with all kinds of natives. There were half-naked
boatmen, dingi wallahs in scores, wrangling for an oppor-
tunity to carry them ashore; for the tide rises seventeen feet
sometimes in Bombay, and it is impossible to make the fine
stone wharves available for the larger steamers. Mingling
with them were very polite and loquacious hotel clerks, with
the dark Hindu faces, but dressed as Europeans, pressing
the claims of a half-dozen of the best hotels of the city.
There were several Hindus and Mussulmans, who spoke
English well, as they thought, urging the passengers to en-
gage them as kitmutgars, or servants; for, as Scott soon
found out, every one in India has to have at least one
native servant. When they were out of the bustle, Richard
explained to him the necessity. These fellows were shoving in
their faces numberless letters of recommendation from former
employers. They were the neatest set who came on board,
with white or colored turbans twisted tightly about their black
hair or smoothly-shaven heads, long white cloaks bound about
the waist with soft girdles, very small white breeches cling-
ing about their ankles, and feet thrust into pointed slippers.
But the most insinuating and. the most unpleasant class of
all were the Parsis, in all kinds of dress, most of them
aping, in some respect, the clothes of the Europeans, but
all wearing the curious shining black hats, looking like bishops'
mitres turned sideways. They were money-changers, looking
for opportunities to purchase English gold with Hindu ru-
pees. They are lighter in complexion than the Hindus.




OUR BOYS IN INDIA.


"They look as though they had a bilious turn, and had
it bad," said Scott. I should like to push the whole lot
of them overboard."
It would hardly do," replied Mr. Raymond; "for they
are the Jews of Bombay. They have the money. They are
very serviceable sometimes. You will meet them everywhere."
It was so late when they landed, that as they rolled
away in an English cab, driven by an apish-looking Hindu,
Scott obtained but a faint idea of his surroundings, except
that every thing was very strange. They went to the Byculla
Hotel as soon as they landed on the Apollo bundar, or
wharf; and early in the morning they started for a walk.
Just outside the court of the hotel they came upon one
of the great sights of India,- a band of jugglers.
They are bound to initiate you early," said Richard.
"Here are some fellows that are almost the trademark of
Hindustan. Wait till I set them going. They are lying
around here, waiting for the people in the hotel to wake up."
He threw some coins into the midst of the crowd, saying in
Hindustani, What are you about, you lazy fellows ? Don't
you think we want to see any thing of India?"
It was like throwing corn to a flock of hungry chickens.
Instantly the whole crowd sprang up, and all together began
operations. One fellow began beating a drum, and moaning
and howling as if in his last agony.
Can't he stop that noise? I can hardly see while he is
making that racket," said Scott.
You would see nothing if he should stop," replied Richard;
"for it is that delightful music that inspires the whole of
them."
And, sure enough, as soon as he was well under way,





SCOTT IN THE MYSTERIES OF INDIA.


they all grew excited, and their bodies and voices joined in
the hubbub. In the front, just under their eyes, sat a fellow
who drew out two thin swords twenty-six inches long; and,


JUGGLERS.


after insisting that they examine them, he deliberately put
the points into his mouth, and pushed the entire length down
his throat. Then he wanted them to put their hands over




OUR BOYS IN INDIA.


his stomach, where they could feel the points. Another put
a stone into his mouth; and a moment later, fire and a dense
cloud of smoke issued from his nose and mouth, which at last
completely enveloped him. Then he suddenly turned a som-
ersault, and, opening his mouth, calmly took out the stone,
and threw it on the ground. One fellow took some iron
hoops, one after another, on a pole, where he set them
spinning, till he had eighteen in a line; then, sticking the
pole into the ground, he deliberately sprang through the
whirling hoops, and, landing on his feet, he turned about,
picked up the pole, and still kept the hoops whirling.
Another began throwing short swords into the air, till he had
ten of them flying about his head; and, in all the confusion,
little acrobats were performing all manner of antics, and a
sleight-of-hand performer was -endeavoring to attract their en-
tire attention to endless little tricks he was dexterously play-
ing. They set a basket down in their midst. It was about
two feet broad, a foot and a half high, and two and a half
feet long. They took a netting that was made in the shape
of a small bag, and, after much ado, succeeded in crowding
into it a Hindu boy. They tied the neck of the bag fast,
and laid the boy upon the top of the basket, which was
apparently much smaller than he was. A sheet was thrown
over him; and in a moment the netting-bag was thrown out
from under the sheet, tied as it had been, but empty. They
drew the sheet away, but the boy had disappeared. Some
one said that he was in the basket; and one of the Hindus
at once took the cover off, and jumped in himself, stamping
about in it furiously. He then put the cover on, and bound
it. Then he took a long sword, arid thrust it through the
basket, and out of every corner. With the last thrust a wild




SCOTT IN THE MYSTERIES OF INDIA.


cry of pain issued from the basket, and he drew the sword
out dripping with blood.
"I have killed the boy!" he cried; and Scott shuddered,
for he certainly thought he had. But the Hindu pointed to a
crow sitting on a tree at a little distance, and said, -
Heaven be praised! my boy was a good boy. He has
only been turned into a bird; but I will soon have him back."
He gathered the -sheet up into a little ball, and threw it at the
crow, which was frightened and flew away. But the Hindu
only laughed; and, gathering up the sheet again, he cried, -
"I have him!"
Then he threw the sheet over the basket with one hand,
while he drew it off with the other; and, behold, the basket was
strained in every part, to contain the boy. The Hindu joy-
fully untied the knots, and the cover flew up, for the boy was
apparently so large that it could hardly hold him; and, smiling,
he crept out of the basket without a scratch.
One of the Hindus then began to play the famous tree
trick,- making a mango 'grow from a little seed, blossom, and
bear fruit, under a sheet, where there was absolutely nothing
but sand before: but they had looked so long that it was time
for breakfast; and, assuring Scott that he would see jugglers in
India till he would wish that there was no such thing in the
world, Richard turned away, and they entered the hotel court.
The guests had begun to gather on the broad veranda,
where already there were two snake-charmers performing.
"These fellows are plenty just now: there must be some-
thing up in the city that draws them here," said Richard, as
they approached the little group gathered about the charmers.
They were two wrinkled old Hindus, with eyes that looked
like snakes' eyes, and motions that were so subtle and quick,




2 0 UR BOYS IN INDIA.

that Scott thought there must be some affinity between them
and their serpents. In little baskets before them there were
several snakes coiled away; and each charmer was playing on
a rude gourd flute to a huge cobra that was coiling and un-
coiling and weaving before him in time to the music. They













",. ', N O-
I -' ,' '










SERPENT-OHARMERS.

would hiss, and dart their heads at the charmers sometimes;
and the way the charmers dodged them showed that they did
not think them entirely harmless, as they spread the broad
hoods just below their heads, and displayed every symptom of
anger. Then one of the charmers stood up, and, catching the
snake about the neck with one hand, threw him three times
about his head, and let him fall upon the ground. There he
lay, rigid and stiff, at full length, and straight as an arrow.




SCOTT IN THE MYSTERIES OF INDIA.


"I have killed my snake," cried the Hindu; "but I have
a good cane instead." And, taking the creature up by the
tail, he pretended to walk about, leaning on him.
"Will any one buy my cane?" he asked, offering it to
several of the bystanders, who shuddered, and drew away. He
smiled; and, thrusting the head of the rigid serpent under his
turban, he began to push up the rest of the body, till at last
all but the tip of his tail had disappeared. Then he removed
his turban, and there lay the poisonous reptile in a glittering
coil upon his head
Scott gave a cry of surprise; and Richard asked, Does
that remind you of any thing in particular? "
Of Moses before Pharaoh! exclaimed Scott.
"You are not the first one who has thought of it," replied
Richard. "Sceptics are using it as an argument, to-day, to
prove that Moses was only an expert snake-charmer, after
all."
"Well, he succeeded in getting the children of Israel away,
and that was what he was driving at," said Scott.
Richard went up to the charmer, who was now waiting for
his assistant to collect the offerings. The people who had
been looking on did not pay half so much attention now as
they had before, and were some of them so busy read-
ing the morning papers that they could not even hear the
assistant when he spoke to them. After a moment's conver-
sation, Richard returned, with the information that that day
was the great feast of Nag-Panchmi; and, on the way in
to breakfast, he promised Scott that he should see serpents
enough that day to keep him in snaky dreams for the rest of
his life.
The breakfast-room was large and high, and full of windows,




O UR B 0 YS IN INDIA.


opened wide and covered with kus-kus grass awnings, that
Hindu servants in white costumes were continually sprinkling
with water, to cool the light breeze that came through them.
Over each long table something entirely new to Scott was sus-
pended from the ceiling, looking like panels, three feet broad,
as long as the table, and ornamented with fancy fringes. From
the lower corner of each, that was only a little above the heads
of those sitting at the tables, a small cord was attached, that,
after passing through several pulleys, went down into the hand
of a native boy, sitting close against the side of the room. Scott
had noticed one of them in his room the night before, but he
was too tired to wonder what it was. Now, before he could
ask, the guests began to seat themselves; and suddenly all the
panels began to swing vigorously back and forth, fanning every
one at the table.
"You like the punkas said Richard, watching him.
"That is a name and a half," replied Scott: I should like
them better with some other name."
"There is nothing else that will do so well: 'punka' is
Hindustani for 'fan,' and these punkas are the saving of a
fellow's life if he lives long in India."
"But it is not so very hot this morning," said Scott: "I
noticed that the thermometer was only eighty-three."
But did you ever know it to be so hot at eighty-three in
Boston ?" asked Richard. It is a sultry, damp heat here, that
tells on one. The blood gets hotter and hotter. After break-
fast we will drive on Malabar Hill, and obtain a little sea-
breeze for a change."
I feel as if a breath of salt air would do me good," replied
Scott, laughing. Nevertheless, after drinking a cup of hot
coffee, and eating a plate of snow-white rice and curry, with





SCOTT IN THE MYSTERIES OF INDIA.


chicken, and several bananas and oranges, he began to realize
that eighty-three was certainly hotter in Bombay than it was
in Boston, and that a sea-breeze would not be bad.
They walked down the street a little way, as Richard wanted
to mail a letter at the Byculla station, which was just beyond.
Before the station-gate there sat an old man on the ground,
and a boy stood beside him with a bamboo tray in his hands.
They were ragged and dirty; and the old man, especially, had
as ugly and unpleas-
ant a face as could
well be imagined.
"What in the
world is that frightful
fellow trying to do ?"
asked Scott as they
approached.
"He's only sell-
ing fruit," replied
Richard.
"But what a
horrible face! It's
enough to drive FRUIT-SELLER.
every one to the other side of the street."
You don't buy the old man's face. You need not even
look at it. Go to the boy, and get half a dozen of those
custard-apples. You'll like them."
Scott obeyed; and when he was close to the old man,
and looked fairly in his face, it was not so ugly after all.
While they were stopping by the gate, a curious vehicle
was driven by, drawn, at a slow dog-trot, by a span of mal-
tese bullocks, with humps on their shoulders, in front of which
the yoke was laid.




OUR BOYS IN INDIA.


Look at there! cried Scott. Is that a man, or monkey,
driving? "
It's an argument for Darwin surely," replied Richard.
"But the poor fellow is not half so much a monkey as he
looks. He is only one of the poorest of workingmen. That
is a native gharri. It belongs to his employer. The poor
fellow will not receive ten cents a day; but out of it he















GOING TO MARKET
probably has a large family of children, and three or four
wives, to support."
But that was a regular buffer riding with him. What
was he,- crown prince, or sheik of some sort?"
Hardly," replied Richard, laughing. What his ancestors
may have been I could not say, for there are hosts of
princes and nabobs working for their living in India now;
but that fellow is only some one's cook or butler, going to
the market to purchase the breakfast."
"I hope he's late enough about it," said Scott.
"Not very," replied Mr. Raymond. "At the hotel we





SCOTT IN THE MYSTERIES OF INDIA.


could have breakfast early: but, if we were living as every
one lives in India, we should only have what they call 'chota
hazri,' or 'little breakfast,' of bread and tea and fruit, early;
then we should sit about the house, and read and bathe, and
about nine or ten we should have breakfast."
See! He is stopping at that shanty. Is that the
market ?" asked Scott, still watching the gharri.
It is the place where those fellows always stop first,"
said Richard. It is a coffee-house. He will go in there,
and smoke a hookah, and drink a cup of coffee, before he
does any thing else; and then he will charge enough more
for what he gets at the market to pay the bill."
"I'd go to market myself, if that's the way," said Scott,
as they turned away.
It wouldn't pay," said Richard. In the first place, it
is too hot; and then, when a European goes to market, they
charge him so much more, that it is the cheapest in the end
for him to pay for the cook's coffee."
Ha, you! Buggy wallah! he called suddenly, as a car-
riage something like a clumsy doctor's gig passed, with the
driver sitting in front of the dasher. He obediently stopped,
and turned up to where they were standing. As they got
in, Richard directed him to drive them over Malabar Hill.
"What was it you called him?" asked Scott when they
started.
Buggy wallah," replied Richard.
"But is not that English?"
"Yes, the buggy part of it is; and this is supposed to
be an English vehicle. At any rate, buggy' is the only name
these people know it by. But eat your apples, and see if
you like them. They have a wonderful history."




OUR BOYS IN INDIA.


The apples were large and green; but, instead of a skin,
they were covered with coarse green scales. Scott pulled out
one of these scales, and a soft buff pulp followed it, that looked
and smelled and tasted like a most delicious custard. But
the moment he had put his teeth into it, they struck against
a hard black seed that literally filled the soft pulp.
"It is splendid! what there is of it," said Scott; "but















TO MALABAR HILL.
one might almost starve to death while he was eating. What
is the history?"
"Why, the real name is the apple of Eden; and the
Mohammedans say that that is the apple with which Eve
tempted Adam in the garden of Eden. They say that then
it had a skin like tissue, and of a beautiful color, and that
the seeds were almost invisible, and that the flavor now
is the very faintest suggestion of the fragrance that it had
in the garden."
I don't wonder that Adam and Eve went for them, then,"
observed Scott, as he began a second apple of Eden. How





SCOTT IN THE MYSTERIES OF INDIA.


soon do we come to Malabar Hill ?" he asked, looking up
when it was finished.
"We are now driving on that illustrious spot," replied
Richard, waving his hand ostentatiously. "We are in the
midst of the residences of the aristocracy of Bombay, Euro-
peans, Parsis, Mussulmans, the paradise of boobies and
snobs, and some very good fellows too," he added with a
laugh.
"But I don't call it much of a hill," said Scott, looking
down a broad and certainly beautiful avenue; "though it was
something like these apples, very steep, what there was of it."
"It is the most of a hill that there is on the island,"
replied Richard, as the driver turned about, and in time was
in the heart of the city again.
The streets were all crowded with people now, the booths
were opened, and every thing in the bazaar was ready for
business. There were all sorts of people, in all sorts of
costumes, and doing every thing imaginable. There were
nabobs swelling along with two or three servants about them,
and beggars and merchants. There were women with their
faces all covered with veils, and women with one eye exposed
through the folds of a white sari that was thrown over them;
and there were women very prettily dressed in gaudy little
jackets and silk breeches, with only a fancy gauze cloak.
There were children half naked, and children, hosts of them,
with nothing on but a little string tied round their waists.
There were porters carrying bundles, and sometimes half a
dozen staggering along under the weight of a large box or
bale hung upon a bamboo pole which rested on their shoul-
ders; and as they went they grunted, "He, he, he! Ho,
ho, ho!" to keep in step, and forget their burden. There




OUR BOYS IN INDIA.


were bkistis, or water-carriers, with large earthen jugs, or
kujas, hung upon opposite ends of a long bamboo pole which
rested over their shoulders, and women with all kinds of
bundles on their heads. There were all nations there, and
all seemed at home. There were British soldiers and native
policemen; and during their ride they even saw the peculiar
sight of two Hindu policemen taking a drunken English
soldier to the fort.
No one seemed to fear being run over, or to be on the
lookout for carriages; and the result was, that the drivers had
to keep up one unending howl to men, women, and children,
who were forever in their way; and one could have walked
about as fast as the buggy was drawn through the bazaar.
What makes every one walk in the middle of the street ?"
asked Scott.
"Because there is nothing but middle," replied Richard.
Scott had not thought of it before; but, when he looked,
there was absolutely no sign of a sidewalk anywhere.
"They must get their shoes all dirt," he observed, "and
have pretty-looking carpets to pay for it."
"In the first place, they don't have carpets, as a general
thing, not even the rich fellows," said Richard; "and, carpets
or no carpets, they never wear shoes into the house, any more
than we wear our hats."
But what an absurd idea to take off one's shoes!" ex-
claimed Scott.
I don't know about that, Scott: they say, what an absurd
idea to take off the hat, instead! for they say their shoes
touch the ground, and are defiled, and will defile their friends'
houses; but their hats do no harm on their heads. A host
of things are right or wrong in this world, just according to
who do them, and who judge them."




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