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But he saw nothing of his young master, because a group of people, also in Saya Chone's pay, covered the movements by which Jack was drugged and carried off by his enemies. "Thunder and mud," growled Buck. "Where's Jack got to? I left him here not five minutes ago, laughing over this picture." At this moment Dent came up. "Where's Jack?" said he quickly.
The woman had stretched herself out so that her body was in front of the half-caste's pony, her infant in front of that of the Ruby King. Saya Chone's pony was more merciful than the flinty-hearted wretch who bestrode it. It started back, reared, shied, refused absolutely to step forward upon the unhappy woman. The Ruby King uttered a brutal laugh, and urged his own animal on.
At the moment that Jack was dragged into the bushes by the Buddhist monk, who was not really a monk at all, but one of Saya Chone's followers in disguise, and the dancing girl, who was Saya Chone himself, Buck was within a dozen yards of them, looking all about for Jack.
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