of Sona . The rain matted his long white hair into ropes ; the water splashed beneath his bare feet , and his yellow robe clung to his frail old body , but he stepped down steadily , leaning against the barasingh . He was no longer a holy man , but Sir Purun Dass , K.C.I.E. , Prime Minister of no small State , a man accustomed to command , going out to save life . Down the steep , plashy path they poured all together , the Bhagat and his brothers , 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 ; and he did not know his own voice , for it was years since he had spoken aloud to a man . `` The hill falls ! The hill is falling ! Up and out , oh , you within ! '' `` It is our Bhagat , '' said the blacksmith 's wife . `` He stands among his beasts . Gather the little ones and give the call . '' It ran from house to house , while the beasts , cramped in the narrow way , surged and huddled round the Bhagat , and Sona puffed impatiently . The people hurried into the street -- they were no more than seventy souls all told -- and in the glare of the torches they saw their Bhagat holding back the terrified barasingh , while the monkeys plucked piteously at his skirts , and Sona sat on his haunches and roared . `` Across the valley and up the next hill ! '' shouted Purun Bhagat . `` Leave none behind ! We follow ! '' Then the people ran as only Hill folk can run , for they knew that in a landslip you must climb for the highest ground across the valley .
They fled , splashing through the little river at the bottom , and panted up the terraced fields on the far side , while the XXXXX and his brethren followed .
Bhagat Dass Hill K.C.I.E. Minister Sona barasingh eaves landslip years