The ground was covered by groups of the Indians, motionless in their drunken sleep; it seemed a battlefield strewn with the dead.

Men, women, and children lay together.
In the background, among the trees, the pagoda of Pillaji loomed distinctly.

Much to the guide's disappointment, the guards of the rajah, lighted by torches, were watching at the doors and marching to and fro with naked sabres; probably the priests, too, were watching within.
The Parsee, now convinced that it was impossible to force an entrance to the temple, advanced no farther, but led his companions back again.
Phileas Fogg and Sir Francis Cromarty also saw that nothing could be attempted in that direction.

They stopped, and engaged in a whispered colloquy.
"It is only eight now," said the brigadier, "and these guards may also go to sleep." "It is not impossible," returned the Parsee.
They lay down at the foot of a tree, and waited.
The time seemed long; the guide ever and anon left them to take an observation on the edge of the wood, but the guards watched steadily by the glare of the torches, and a dim light crept through the windows of the pagoda.
They waited till midnight; but no change took place among the guards, and it became apparent that their yielding to sleep could not be counted on.

The other plan must be carried out; an opening in the walls of the pagoda must be made.