Swear not by your false idols, slave; I shall not believe you for that, you dog of an unbeliever, you soor-be-iman, you swine without faith!" "Han, sahib, han!" cried Narain, seizing at the idea that the pundit had disappeared mysteriously through the walls.

"Yes, sahib, the pundit is a great yogi, and has made the winds carry him off." The fellow thought this was a bright idea, not by any means beneath consideration.

Isaacs appeared somewhat pacified.
"What makes you think he is a yogi, dog ?" he inquired in a milder tone.
Narain had no answer ready, but stood looking rather stupidly through the door at the room whence the unearthly visitor had so suddenly disappeared.

"Well," continued Isaacs, "you are more nearly right than you imagine.

The pundit is a bigger yogi than any your idiotic religion can produce.