and gestures showed me so much, with gruesome plainness; and veritable tongues of flame, which from time to time flashed over to me from beneath the thick, bushy brows of the robber captain, brought home with much bitterness the loss of my amulet against the evil eye, which I could now see gleaming on the shaggy breast of the monster himself. My feeling was not at fault, for, as I later learned, I had cut down a pet of Angulimala's—one who was, moreover, the best swordsman in the whole band—before his very eyes, and the captain had only refrained from killing me on the spot, for the reason that he wanted to still his thirst for vengeance, by seeing me slowly tortured to death. But the others were not inclined to see a rich prize, which belonged of right to the whole band, uselessly squandered in any such way. A bald-headed, smooth-shaven robber, who looked as though he might be a priest, struck me as the man who chiefly differed from Angulimala, and the only one who understood how to curb the savage. He was also the only one whose face during the drinking retained its paleness. After a long dispute, in the course of which Angulimala sprang up a couple of times and reached for his sword, victory fell—fortunately for me—to the professional aspect of the case.
It should be mentioned that Angulimala's band belonged to the "Senders," so called because it was one of their rules that, of two prisoners, one should be sent to raise the money required for the ransom they demanded. If they took a father and son prisoner, they bade the father go and bring the ransom for the son; of two brothers, they sent the elder; if a teacher with his disciple had fallen into their hands, then the disciple was sent; had a master and his servant been caught, then the servant was obliged to go—for which reason they were known as the "Senders."
