It drove the laugh from Barlow's lips.
"Why has the Afghan Musselman become a Hindu?" Bootea asked.
"I have no wish to anger these people who are on a holy pilgrimage by
going into their temples as a Moslem."
"You are going to the shrine of Omkar?" the Gulab asked aghast.
"Are you--again?" Barlow parried.
"Yes, Sahib, soon."
"I am going with you," Barlow declared.
Bootea expostulated with almost fierce eagerness; with a fervour that
increased the uneasiness in Barlow's mind. He had a premonition of
evil; dread hung on his soul--perhaps born of the dream of a tiger
devouring the girl.
"The Sahib still has the Akbar Lamp--the ruby?" the girl queried,
presently.
"I have it safe," he answered, tapping his breast.
"If the Sahib is not going to the shrine Bootea would desire that we
could go out beyond the village to a _mango tope_ where there are none
to observe, for she would like to make the final salaams in his
arms--then nothing would matter."
"Perhaps we had better go anyway," Barlow said eagerly--"though I am
going over to the shrine with you; for now, being a Hindu, I can pass
as your brother--and there there would not be opportunity.
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