The night was pitch-dark.  He noiselessly opened the small window of the boat and saw a number of men, with flaming torches in their hands and armed with heavy sticks, coming down the bank.  There was no time to call his men.  He seized his loaded revolver.  But what was one against so many!  He decided to bolt.  The land way was barred by the dacoits.  What of the river?  He was a good swimmer.  But the water looked black as ink and swarmed with crocodiles.  Yet to stay in the boat meant certain death.  If he gained the opposite bank, he could make for his father-in-law’s house, which was near the river and where his wife was then staying.  He might escape the crocodiles.  He determined to risk it.

Like a flash all this passed through his mind.  Opening the other window he clambered out stealthily and slipped into the water.  A few powerful strokes carried him across.  He stumbled up the bank and raced through the thorny jungle to his father-in-law’s house.

The sleeping family were disturbed by his violent knocking.  As soon as he was admitted, he went to his wife’s room.  She was horrified to hear of his danger.  After a hasty bath and change she insisted that he should eat something, and while he was refreshing himself, she informed her father of his son-in-law’s escape and predicament.  To her surprise, her father said:  “I am sorry, but he must leave my house.”

“O! father, how can he?” she pleaded.

“He must” repeated her father.

The daughter fell at her parent’s feet and implored him not to drive her husband forth.  But no words of hers could move him.  “Why should all suffer for one?” he argued.  She returned sadly to her husband.

Presently the cries of the dacoits showed that they had scented their quarry.  Soon they shouted at the door:  “Open! or drive out the Deputy Magistrate.  We know he is here.  Give him to us or what happens be on your own head.”

The wife wept piteously.  Her father remained obdurate, muttering, “I knew this would happen.”

The unfortunate Magistrate could not understand his father-in-law’s behaviour.  He sat with his head bowed in despair.  Suddenly his wife ran to him.

“You must try to escape.  I have an idea.”  She pulled out a saree and some jewels, and began to dress him as a woman,

“It’s no use,” he said hopelessly, “they will catch me.”

“Be brave,” she said encouragingly, “for my sake see if you cannot elude them.”

With tender hands she arranged the saree, draping it well over his head to conceal his face.  Then giving him a ghurra (water vessel) told him to pretend that he was going to fetch water from the river.  Cheered by her courage, he caught her to his heart in a mute farewell, and her prayers went with him.

He had not gone far from the house when cries arose of “There he is!” But some one shouted:  “It is a woman.  Look elsewhere.”  And he passed slowly to the river.  Here he flung the brass ghurra far out into the stream and ran for his life along the bank.  No sounds of pursuit followed him, and he now gained courage enough to form a plan of escape.  Not far from his father-in-law’s village was a small police station.  Thither he bent his steps and asked protection of its solitary occupant.