Only, first of all he's got
to tell them that he needs us for the present. Let him say that
he's got an extra-special awful death in store for us by and by,
and that he's going to keep us by him until he's ready to work the
miracle. Meantime, nobody's to touch us, or come near us, except
to bring him and us food!"
The fakir listened, and said nothing. At a sign from Brown the rope
tightened just a little. The fakir raised his chin.
"And tell him that, if he doesn't do what I say, and exactly what
I say, and do it now, he's got just so long to live as it takes a
man to choke his soul out!"
The fakir answered nothing.
"Just ever such a wee bit tighter, men!"
The fakir lost his balance, and had to scramble to his feet and stand
there swaying on his heels, clutching at the rope above him with his
one uninjured hand, and sawing upward with his head for air. There
came a murmur from the shadows, and a dozen breech-bolts clicked.
There seemed no disposition to lie idle while the holiest thing in
a temple-ridden province dangled in mid-air.
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