Ajeet's strong fingers, slim bronzed lengths of steel, had gripped the
wrist of his assailant as Bootea, darting forward, laid a hand upon the
arm of Hunsa, crying, "Shame! shame! You are like sweepers of low
caste--eaters of carrion, they who respect not Bhowanee. Shame! you
are a dog--a tapper of liquor!"
At the touch of the Gulab on his arm, and the scorn in her eyes, Hunsa
shivered and drew back, his head hanging in abasement, but his face
devilish in its malignity.
Ajeet, taking a brass dish, poured water upon the hand that had gripped
the wrist of Hunsa, saying, "Thus I will cleanse the defilement." Then
he sat down upon his heels, adding: "Guru, holy one, repeat a prayer to
appease Bhowanee, then we will go into the jungle and take the
auspices."
The Guru strode over to Hunsa, and holding out his thin skinny palm
commanded, "Jamadar, from you a rupee; and to-morrow I will put upon
the shrine of Kali cocoanuts and sweet-meats and marigolds as peace
offerings."
Hunsa took from his loin cloth a silver coin and dropped it surlily in
the outstretched hand, sneering: "To Bhowanee you will give four annas,
and you will feast to the value of twelve annas, for that is the way of
your craft.
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