The thick masses of clouds in the sky were, from time to time, making angry sounds. Cowherds had led their cows from the field– a lone calf, tied by somebody to a post and frightened at the roar of clouds, was bellowing for her mother.
          Rishi was intent on catching grasshoppers. He frowned at the bellowing of the calf. Could one catch grasshoppers amidst all these bellows? The grasshoppers were so clever. He went up to the calf and asked, 'who had tied you? You can't even butt with those tender horns. Go', saying this he uprooted the post and released the calf giving a twist to its tail.
          A large grasshopper came to sit on a prickly thistle, which swayed under the weight of the grasshopper. How lovely were its colours! Just like a foreign postage stamp. Rishi knelt, at arm's length. Holding his breath, he advanced inch by inch to grab the unsuspecting grasshopper. Alas! all in vain. Startled, Rishi found his fingers move. But the grasshoppers flew away with a sweep and swayed in the air.
          Rishi's eyes narrowed in excitement, he was thrilled to watch the grasshoppers. He was desperate to catch one of them. He gave it a try again. He could almost catch one of them within a moment when the clouds roared very loudly and the grasshoppers danced away to a corner of the field.
          Rishi was angry. He looked up at the sky and asked, 'who made the sound? Do you think people on earth have no work?’
          Rishi's anger did not subside. He picked up a stone and threw it at one of the cloud-masses. One of the clots of the cloud had descended lower than the others and was considered responsible for the escape of the grasshoppers. But the stone did not rise up to that height. Rishi challenged it loudly, "Come down a little more, if you have the courage. I'll pound you to a pulp."

         
Some people were passing by. Hearing Rishi shouting, they glanced at the field and talked to one another about Rishi. Two of them stood at two opposite points of the road and six others came quickly to the middle of the field to surround Rishi. By appearance some of them did not look like Bengalis. Some of them were very tall, with long moustaches like black cats,          
         

wide whiskers, red eyes, strong builds. One of them asked Rishi in Bengali, "Who else was here with you? Whom were you talking to?"
          Rishi was watching them. He did not answer the question and asked instead, "Are you dacoits from Chambal?"
          One of the fellows was looking around. He held Rishi's chin by his left hand and said, "Your father has sent us. He has bought you a big gun. Come, you'll see."
          "I've a gun. Are you Chambal dacoits?"
          The fellow was about to say something when another stopped him, in Hindi, "Don't talk much. You are much too clever." He turned towards Rishi "Come quick."
          "I'll not go home now. Tell me, are you Chambal dacoits?"
          The fourth one blurted out, "Yes, yes, you've got it right. We are indeed coming from Chambal."
          As he mentioned Chambal, there was a roar from the clouds and a streak of lightning ran up the sky, almost hissing like a snake.
          Rishi was no more concerned with the clouds. He said, "That's good! For a long time I was thinking of you. Tell me, are there hills or big and dry canals in Chambal? When the police come, do you take shelter in those trenches and fight with your guns?"
          "Yes, yes."
          "Will you take me there, to your hide-outs?"
          The fellow who was speaking Hindi gave a weird smile. He swung one side of his moustache, as a cat swings its tail and said, "We are looking just for you. Come on" and pulled at Rishi's hand.
          As Rishi crossed the field along with the fellows, he heard them discussing in a hushed voice which way they should take him, on to the station. Rishi did not know Hindi but could get a hang of it. They were looking this way and that very cautiously and went on talking in that hush-hush fashion. Could be, this was because they were real dacoits from Chambal?
          Rishi was engrossed in his thought that he would be going to Chambal with those dacoits. As they reached the road, they discussed with those who were on guard, in whispers all the time. Rishi asked, "Are there jungles in Chambal?"
          The fellow, who was short with a deep wound on his left cheek, said. "Yes, there are many dense jungles."
          "Are there deer? Can they be seen?"