Om: The Secret of Ahbor Valley. Talbot Mundy

am worse than they," said Ommony.

      "No doubt. They have their good points."

      "I have none! You must wash yourself as often as I tell you, and I shall give the order oftener than they did! From now on, you are my servant."

      "But who says so?"

      "I do."

      "You desire me?"

      "No, because I already have you. I can dispose of you as I see fit," said Ommony. "I can send you to the jail for killings and for train-robberies, and for trying to murder me this afternoon. Or I can bid you work out the score in other ways."

      "That is true, more or less. Yes, there is something in what you say, Ommonee."

      "It is not more or less true. It is quite true."

      "How so? Have I not my knife? Would you like to fight me? I can slay that she-dog of thine as easily as I can lay thy bowels on the floor."

      "No," said Ommony, "no honorable man could do that to his master. Are you not an honorable man?"

      "None more so!"

      "And I am your master, so that settles it."

      Dawa Tsering looked puzzled; there was something in the reasoning that escaped him. But it is what men do not understand that binds them to others' chariot wheels.

      "Well—I do not wish to return to Spiti—yet," he said reflectively. "But about the bath—how often? Besides, it is contrary to my religion, now I come to think of it."

      "Change your religion, then. Now no more argument. Which way has the Lama gone?"

      "Oh, as to that—I suppose I could discover that. How much will you pay me?"

      "Thirty rupees a month, clean clothing, two blankets and your food."

      "That is almost no pay at all," said Dawa Tsering. "To make a profit at that rate, I should have to eat so much that my belly would be at risk of bursting. There is discomfort in so much eating."

      "They would give you enough to eat and no more, without money, in the jail," said Ommony, "and you would have to obey a babu, and be shaved by a contractor, and make mats without reward. And if you were very well behaved, they would let you rake the head jemadar's garden. Moreover, Tin Lal, who is also in the jail, would mock you at no risk to himself, since you would have no knife; and because he is clever and malignant he would constantly get you into trouble, laughing when you were punished. And since he is only in the jail for a short time, and you would be in for a long time, there would be no remedy. However, suit yourself."

      "You are a hard man, Ommonee!"

      "I am. I have warned you."

      "Oh, well: I suppose it is better so. A soft knife is quickly dulled, and men are the same way. Yielding men are not dependable. Pay me a month's wages in advance, and tomorrow we will buy the blankets."

      But beginnings are beginnings. A foundation not well laid destroys the whole edifice.

      "From now on until I set you free, your desires are nothing," Ommony said sternly. "You consider my needs and my convenience. When I have time to consider yours, it will remain to be seen whether I forget or not. Go and wait on the porch. Try to make friends with the dog; she can teach you a lot you must learn in one way or another. If the dog permits you leisure for thought, try to imagine which way the Lama may have gone."

      Dawa Tsering went out through the hall, too impressed by the novelty of the situation even to mutter to himself. Ommony went to the window and said two or three words to Diana, whose long tail beat responsively on the teak boards. Presently came the sound of Dawa Tsering's voice:

"O thou: my time has not come to be eaten.* Have wisdom!"

      A low rumbling growl announced that Diana was considering the situation, keeping Ommony's command in mind.

      "I have no doubt thou art a very evil devil!"

      Again the growl, followed by a thump and the shuffling sound of Dawa Tsering squatting himself on the porch.

      "So—thus. We will see whether Ommonee knows what he is doing. Attack me, and die, thou mother of fangs and thunder! Then I will know it is not my karma to obey this Ommonee. Lie still, thou earthquake, and I will—" His voice dropped to a murmur and died away. Thoughts too obscure for expression seemed to have riveted his whole attention. Ommony, peering through the shutter slats, could see him sitting almost within arm's reach of the dog, staring straight in front of him at the stars on the north horizon. He turned to Mrs. Cornock-Campbell:

      "And now I'll go away and let you sleep. When we come to your house, Mac and I invariably forget manners and stay into the wee small hours—"

      But at a sign from her he sat down again. She closed the piano and locked it. "Cottswold," she said, "tell me what you have in mind. You have said too much or too little."

      "I have told all I know—that is that I care to tell, even to you," Ommony answered. "I suppose, as a matter of fact, I'm a bit piqued. That Lama has had scores of opportunities to realize that I wouldn't betray confidences. I am told I'm notorious for refusing to tell the government what I know about individuals; and the Lama is perfectly aware of that. I've risked my job fifty times by insisting on holding my tongue. Am I right, Mac?"

      "You are!" McGregor answered with a dry smile. "I remember, I once considered it my duty to advise threatening you with drastic penalties. I would have ordered you tortured, but for the cir-r-cumstance that that means of inducement is out of date. And besides, I had ma doots of its efficacy in your instance."

      Ommony grinned. He preferred that praise to all the orders in the almanac. "So, damn the Lama!" he went on fervently. "He has kept aloof for twenty years. I'm satisfied there's something he's deliberately keeping from me. I've no notion what it is, but that piece of jade is probably connected with it. I'm going to track him—tempt him—force his hand."

      "Are you sure you've no notion what he's keeping from you?" Mrs. Cornock-Campbell asked; and Ommony stared hard at her, while McGregor blew smoke at the ceiling.

      "Perhaps I have a sort of notion—yes," he answered slowly. "Sometimes I suspect he knows what took Fred Terry and my sister to the Ahbor country."

      "And?"

      Mrs. Cornock-Campbell studied him with dark blue eyes that seemed to search for something lacking in his mental make-up.

      "He may know what became of them."

      Mrs. Cornock-Campbell smiled and sighed. "Well—we three will meet again before you go, I suppose?"

"No," said Ommony. "I expect to be gone before daybreak. I'll write when I get the chance. If we don't meet again this side of Yama's* Bar—"

      "This is India—it might happen," she answered. "Your friendship has been one of five things that have made my life in India worth while."

      "Oh, nonsense," he said gruffly. The least trace of sentiment frightened him.

      "I'm glad I've helped," she went on. "It's a privilege to have friends like you and John McGregor, who don't imagine they're in love when you share their confidences! Good night. I don't believe you're going to your doom. I think I'd know it if you were."

      "Doom? There isn't any! There's only a reshuffling of the cards," said Ommony. "Good night."

      * Ragyabas are the lowest dregs of Tibetan society, who live on the outskirts of towns and dispose of the dead. When used, as in this case, as an adjective, the word has significance too horrible to be translated. The man was, of course, not a ragyaba.

* Referring of course, to the Tibetan custom of throwing out the dead to be devoured by dogs.