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The Perfect Host
The cave was simply furnished—a bed, a panther's skin, a beggar's bowl of water. Prithi Raj made for the bed, but Sanga sought the hearth-rug.
And the priestess entered and looked at Sanga.
"In olden times," she said, "the panther's skin was the seat of princes. As now you sit on this skin, so one day shall you sit on the throne of Marwar."
At this Prithi Raj drew his sword and would have slain his brother, but their uncle stepped between, and Sanga escaped.
He rode hard, his horse bleeding from sword-thrusts, for Jismal, his younger brother, was after him, while the uncle engaged Prithi Raj.
A long way from the mount he came upon a very holy sanctuary. At its gates stood Rahtore Beeda, the per-
