"I have what you want, but I cannot sell it. Should I be known to sell poison the police would seize me."
"Be not anxious about that," said Hira; "no one shall know that you have sold it. I will swear to you by my patron deity, and by the Ganges, if you wish. Give me enough to kill two jackals, and I will pay you fifty rupees."
The Chandal felt certain that a murder was intended, but he could not resist the fifty rupees, and consented to sell the poison.
Hira fetched the money from her house and gave it to him. The Chandal twisted up a pungent life-destroying poison in paper, and gave it to her.
In departing, Hira said, "Mind you betray this to no one, else we shall both suffer."
The Chandal answered, "I do not even know you, mother."
Thus freed from fear, Hira went home. When there she held the poison in her hand, weeping bitterly; then, wiping her eyes, she said—
"What fault have I committed that I should die? Why should I die without killing him who
