Down the steep, plashy path they poured all together ... down and down till the deer’s feet clicked and stumbled on the wall of a threshing-floor, and he snorted because he smelt Man. Now they were at the head of the one crooked village street, and the Bhagat beat with his crutch on the barred windows of the blacksmith’s house, as his torch blazed up in the shelter of the eaves. ‘Up and out!’ cried Purun Bhagat; ‘The hill falls! The hill is falling! Up and out, oh, you within!’