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Updated: June 14, 2025
Kathlyn looked up dully. "Convey her to his highness the Kumor!" The prince should decide what should be done with her. The Kumor was big and lazy and sensual. He gazed upon Kathlyn with eyes which sparkled evilly, like a cat's. "Who is this woman?" he demanded. "Highness, she is the white queen of Allaha, but who may say that she is here?" with a smile as evil as his master's.
The soldiers spat contemptuously as they seized him and dragged him off. The priests conferred hastily. Bala Khan was a fierce Mohammedan, a ruthless soldier; his followers were without fear. The men of Allaha might put up a good defense, but in the end they would be whelmed; and the gods of Hind would be cast out to make way for the prophet of Allah.
What the want of sleep could not perform exhaustion could; and presently she lay still. Thus, she neither saw nor heard the pious pilgrims who were on their way to Allaha to pray in that temple known to offer protection against wild beasts. Fortunately, they did not observe her. The pilgrim is always a pilgrim in India; it becomes, one might say, a fascinating kind of sport.
She has skin the color of old tusks, and eyes like turquoise, and lips like the flame of the jungle, and hair like the sands of Ganges, mother of rivers." Bruce was upon his feet, alive, eager. He caught the Brahmin by the arm. "Is this woman white?" harshly. "Huzoor, the women of Allaha are always dark of hair." "And was sold as a slave?" "To Durga Ram, the king without a crown, Huzoor.
The slave mart in the capital town of Allaha stood in the center of the bazaars, a great square platform with a roof, but open on all four sides. Here the slaves were exhibited, the poor things intended for dalliance and those who were to struggle and sweat and die under the overseer's lash. Every fortnight a day was set aside for the business of the mart.
"Tell Bala Khan," said Umballa, controlling his rage as best he could, "tell Bala Khan that I would be his friend, not his enemy." "Bala Khan," boomed a voice from the other side of the wall, "cares not for your friendship. Whatever the Mem-sahib says is my word. What! Does Allaha want war for the sake of gratifying Durga Ram's spite?
"Were you afraid we might wish to wear it or have it made over?" laughed Winnie, who never went below the surface of things. "No. The truth is, I had almost forgotten it. But the preparations for India recalled it to mind. It represents a royal title conferred on me by the king of Allaha. You have never been to India, Kit. Allaha is the name we hunters give that border kingdom.
At Ramabai's house Ahmed fell on his knees in thankfulness; not that his Mem-sahib was in Allaha, but that she was alive. During the evening meal Ramabai outlined his plot to circumvent Umballa. He had heard from one of his faithful followers that Umballa intended to force the colonel into a native marriage; later, to dispose of the colonel and marry the queen himself.
"Hidden what?" "The treasure you and the false holy one took from the forbidden cave!" "False holy one?" "Ay, wretch! He is Durga Ram, the man who murdered the king of Allaha." The mutineer laughed and waved his hand toward the smoking ruins of the promontory. "Look for it there," he said, "under mountains of rock and dirt and sand. Look for it there!
"But how came she here?" The horseman briefly recounted the events as he had seen them in the capital of Allaha. "Who are you, maiden?" the Kumor asked in English, for, like all potentates, little or great, in India, he spoke English.
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