Hunsa departed on his mission, and even then the villagers could be seen assembled between the Bagrees and the mud huts, watching curiously the encampment.

“Sookdee,” Ajeet said, “if we can rouse the anger of the patil—­”

The Jamadar laughed.  “If you insist upon the payment of silver you will accomplish that, Ajeet.”

Ajeet touched his slim fingers to Sookdee’s arm:  “Do not forget, Jamadar—­call me Raja.  But as to the village; if we anger them they will not entertain the merchant; they will not let him rest in the village.  And also if they are of an evil temper we will warn the merchant that they are thieves who will cut his throat and rob him.  We will give him the protection of our numbers.”

“If the merchant is fat—­and when they attain wealth they always become fat—­he will be happy with us, Raja, thinking perhaps that he will escape a gift of money the patil would exact.”

“Yes,” Ajeet Singh answered, “we will ask him for nothing when he departs.”

After a time Hunsa was seen approaching, and with him the grey-whiskered patil.

The latter was a commoner.  He suggested a black-faced, grey-whiskered monkey of the jungles.  Indeed the pair were an anthropoid couple, Hunsa the gorilla, and the headman an ape.  Behind them straggled a dozen villagers, men armed with long ironwood sticks of combat.

The headman salaamed the yogi and Ajeet, saying, “This is but a poor place for holy men and the Raja to rest, for the water is bad and famine is upon us.”

“A liar, and the son of a wild ass,” declared Ajeet promptly.  “Give to this saint the gift of silver, lest he put the anger of Kali upon you, and call upon her of the fiery furnace in the sacred hills to destroy your houses.  Also send fowl and grain, and think yourself favoured of Kali that you make offering to such a holy one, and to a Raja who is in favour with Sindhia.”

But the villager had no intention of parting with worldly goods if he could get out of it.  He expostulated, enlarged upon his poverty, rubbed dust upon his forehead, and called upon the gods to destroy him if he had a breakfast in the whole village for himself and people, declaring solemnly; “By my Junwa!”—­though he wore no sacred thread,—­“there is no food for man or horse in the village.”  Then he waxed angry, asking indignantly, who were these stragglers upon the road that they should come to him, an official of the Peshwa, to demand tribute; he would have them destroyed.  Beyond, not two kos away, were a thousand soldiers,—­which was a gorgeous lie,—­who if he but sent a messenger would come and behead the lot, would cast the sacred bones in the gaudy bags upon the dunghill of the village bullocks.

“To-morrow, monkey-man, the gift will be doubled,” Ajeet answered calmly, “for that is the law, and you know it.”

But the patil, thinking there would be little fight in a party of pilgrims and mendicants, called to his stickmen to bring help and they would beat these insolent ones and drive them on their way.