said, "Friend, though you seem not to know me, I know you well." At this another ghost, to try him, asked him if he knew his name, and the Brahmin replied, "Hilláh re bhái Hilláh,[1] don't I know your name?" This too hit the mark, for the ghost's name was Hillah, and the word the Brahmin had uttered as an interjection, sufficed to save him from much trouble and perhaps even from death. The ghosts at once took him as their friend, and asked him the motive that brought him to them. He told them how a band of ruffians was in league against him, and how great was his need of helpers, and they in a body accompained him to his house for the purpose of assisting him.
It was near upon midnight when they reached the house, and the Brahmin, giving his friends some supper, asked them to wait unseen for the thieves. Taking unsubstantial forms, they remained hid in the hollow of a Cháltá tree in the yard. They had not long to wait, for those whom they expected soon made their appearance. This night their plan of attack was different. Having given up the idea of house-breaking, they determined to make an open attack, and scaling the walls and jumping down into the yard, they intended bursting open the main door of the building. But again they heard the Brahmin and his wife talking, and apprehensive that when still awake they might give the alarm to their neighbours, they resolved to tarry for a while. There was in the yard a taktaposh, [2] and they sat down on it for a little rest, intending to make their attack when the immates of the house should fall asleep. But while they were thus awaiting the proper moment, tired Nature pressed her claims upon them, and the hard labour that they had undergone during the past two nights, which had allowed them not a wink of sleep, caused them to feel very drowsy, and at length they fell soundly asleep on the bed.
The Brahmin opened the door of his room as silently as possible, approached on tiptoe the Cháltá tree, and asked his
