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Rosemary McClean, who knew him almost least of all, so far as length of time was concerned, was ready now to trust him as far as the Risaldar dared go; her limit was as long and as devil-daring as Mahommed Gunga's.
I and my men have a personal dispute with Jaimihr. Stay thou here!" Mahommed Gunga's five and Ali Partab came clattering out so fast as to lead to the suspicion that their horses had been already saddled. Mahommed Gunga mounted. "Lead on, cousin!" he exclaimed. "I will follow thy lead, but I come!" Then Alwa did what a native nearly always will do.
"I was content to let them toil well content," said Hanuman. "What had I to do with Gunga's anger?" said the Bull. "I am Bhairon of the Common Folk, and this my staff is Kotwal of all Kashi. I spoke for the Common People." "Thou?" The young God's eyes sparkled. "Am I not the first of the Gods in their mouths today?" returned Bhairon, unabashed.
"Are you afraid, King sahib?" said the Rangar Rewa Gunga's voice, and he took a step forward to be closer to his questioner. He found himself beside a rock, looking up at the Rangar's turban, that peered over the top of it. He could dimly make out the Rangar's dark eyes. "I would be afraid if I were you!"
So for more than ten minutes he chose to sit in apparent dudgeon, his hands folded in front of him on the hilt of his tremendous sabre, growling out a monologue in his own language for Mahommed Gunga's benefit. Then Mahommed Gunga silenced him with an uplifted hand, and turned to translate to Cunningham. "It would seem, sahib, that even while we rode to Abu the rebellion was already raging!
Darya Khan, the man who had brought the letter down the Pass, kept close to Ismail. "Are you armed?" King asked, as soon as he could see the whites of the Rangar's eyes through the gloom. "You jolly well bet I am!" the Rangar laughed. King mounted, and Courtenay shook hands; then he went to Rewa Gunga's side and shook hands with him, too. "Good-by!" called King. "Good-by and good luck!" "Forward!
By the blood of God by my medals, my own honor, and the good name of Pukka-Cunnigan, his father, I swear it!" "Rung Ho!" grinned the six-foot son of war who, rode beside him. They rode on at a walk past the tombstone that at Mahommed Gunga's orders the villagers had decked with sickly scented forest flowers, and as they passed they both saluted it in silence.
He knew a million Chances untackled yet. "Get me a horse!" THAT was a strange ride of Mahommed Gunga's, and a fateful one more full of portent for the British Raj in India than he, or the British, or the men amid whose homes he rode could ever have anticipated.
So it was now that they heard a staccato cannonade not very loud yet, but so quick, so pulsating, so filling to the ears that be could judge nothing about the sound at all, except that whatever caused it must be round a corner out of sight. At first, for a few minutes King suspected it was Rewa Gunga's mare, galloping over hard rock away ahead of him. Then he knew it was a horse approaching.
There Mahommed Gunga found him afterward and administered a thrashing not, as he was careful to explain, for disobedience, but for having dared to be amused at the Risaldar's discomfiture. But there was still one point that weighed heavily on Mahommed Gunga's mind as the servant shuffled off and left him alone face to face with Cunningham.
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