The Whiute Goddess

The painted dancing girl in the house where Umballa had taken temporary
refuge began to gather her trinkets, her amber and turquoise necklaces,
bracelets and anklets. These she placed in a brass enameled box and
tucked it under her arm. Next she shook the sodden Umballa by the
sleeve.

"Come!" she cried.

"I would sleep," he muttered.

She seized a bowl containing some flowers and cast the contents into
his face. "Fire, fire and death!" she shrilled at him.

The douche brought the man out of his stupor.

"Fire?" he repeated.

"Come!"

This time he followed her docilely, wiping his face on his sleeve.

They heard a great shouting in the street, but did not tarry to learn
what had caused it.

One of Umballa's bearers, upon realizing what his master had done, had
run down the street for aid. He had had two objects in view--to save
the white goddess and to buy his freedom.

A few hundred yards away, in another street, the colonel, Bruce and
Ahmed were dragging a net for the purpose of laying it for a lion at
bay in a blind alley. Into their presence rushed the wild-eyed bearer.

"Save the white goddess!" he cried.

Bruce seized him by the shoulder. "What is that?"

"The white goddess, Sahib! She is on the roof of a burning house.
Durga Ram, my master, set fire to it. He is drunk and hiding in a
house near by."

"The man is mad," declared the colonel. "Kit would not have lost her
way this far. He is lying. He wants money."