“That is with the gods I serve.”

“But thou art not without ambition?”

“Who is?” The chief’s wonder grew.  What meant these peculiar sentences?

“Wouldst put thy hand into gold as far as the wrist and take what thou couldst hold?”

“Yee, holy one; for I am human.  Whither leads these questions?  What is it you would of me?”

“There are some who need to be far away to see things.  Well, good man, there is a treasure under your feet,” falling into the vernacular.

The chief could not resist looking down at the ground, startled.

“Nay,” smiled Umballa, “not there.  Think; did not something unusual happen here five years ago?”

The chief smoothed the tip of his nose.  “My father died and I became head man of the village.”

“Would you call that unusual?” ironically.

“No.  Ha!” suddenly.  “Five years ago; yes, yes, I remember now.  Soldiers, who made us lock ourselves in our huts, not to stir forth on the pain of death till ordered.  My father alone was permitted outside.  He was compelled to row out to the island.  There he was blindfolded.  Only two men accompanied him.  They carried something that was very heavy.  My father never knew what the strange shining basket held.  Then the soldiers went away and we came out.  No one was allowed on the island till my father died.”

“Did he tell you what it was he helped bury yonder?”

“No, holy one.  He was an honorable man.  Whatever the secret was, it passed with him.  We were not curious.”

“It was the private treasure of the king of Allaha, and the man was the king himself.”

The fisherman salaamed.

“And I am sent, because I am holy, to recover this treasure, which was willed to the temple of Juggernaut.”

“And, holy one, I know not where it is hidden!”

“I do.  What I want is the use of your sloop and men I can trust.  To you, as much gold as your hands can hold.”

“I will furnish you with men as honest as myself.”

“That will be sufficient; and you shall have your gold.”

The word of a holy man is never subjected to scrutiny in India.

Umballa was in good humor.  Here he was, several hours ahead of his enemies.  He would have the filigree basket dug up and transferred to the sloop before the Colonel Sahib could reach the village.  And Umballa would have succeeded but for the fact that the wind fell unaccountably and they lost more than an hour in handling the sloop with oars.

When the sloop left the primitive landing the chief returned to his hut and told his wife what had taken place, like the good husband he was.  They would be rich.

Suddenly the child set up a wailing.  Through the window she had seen a bold leopard trot over to the bullock cart and carry away the kid.  The chief at once summoned his remaining men, and they proceeded to set a trap for the prowler.  The cat had already killed one bullock and injured another.  They knew that the beast would not return for some hours, having gorged itself upon the kid.  But it was well to be prepared.