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Updated: June 7, 2025
"Now, swore the Risaldar into his beard, we shall see the reaching of decisions! Now, by the curse of the sack of Chitor we shall know who is on whose side, or I am no Rangar, nor the son of one!" "I have a suggestion to make, sahib," smiled Alwa, closing the door of the rock-hewn chamber on the three of them. "Hear mine first!" said Cunningham, with a hint of iron in his voice. "Ay!
If she got an idea there was trouble brewing, she might off with him and get married before we could wink." "Heavens!... An anarchistic boarding-house girl for a daughter-in- law! We'd be a proud family, Rangar." "Yes, sir. I understand you leave it with me?" "I leave it with you to keep an eye on Bonbright. Consult with me before acting. My son is in a strange humor.
Called him names, and that sort of thing.... Maybe, though, there's something personal mixed up in it." "That girl?..." "Very likely, sir." "You know her, Rangar. She worked under you. What sort of girl is she?... I mean would you consider it wise to approach her with a proposition delicately put, of course to say move to another city, or something of the sort?" She seemed to have quite a will.
They were baying now like wolves to be free, and they surged out, like wolves from a cage, to clamor round the Rangar, pawing him and struggling to be first to ask him questions. "Nay, ye mountain people; nay!" he laughed. "I, too, am from the plains! What do I know of your families or of your feuds? Am I to be torn to pieces to make a meal?"
Had he suddenly vanished the elder Foote would have been left suspended in rarefied heights between heaven and his business, lacking direct contact with the mills and machine shops and foundries; yet, doubtless, would have been unable to realize that the loss of Rangar had left him so. Rangar was a competent, efficient man, if peculiar in his ambitions.
And she saw him herself that morning, in her favorite disguise of a rangar zemindari, which is a Rajput landowner turned Muhammadan. The disguise precluded any Hindu interference, and Muhammadans on that country-side, who might have questioned her, were scarce.
But the man made a signal with his fingers that is known to not more than a dozen men in all the world, and that changed the situation altogether. "Walk with me," said King, and the man fell into stride beside him. He was a Rangar, which is to say a Rajput who, or whose ancestors had turned Muhammadan.
Rangar despised Bonbright as a nincompoop, as he expressed it privately. "If I didn't think," he said, "I'd get all the satisfaction I need by leaving him to his father, I'd take a hand myself. But the Foote spooks will give it to him better than I could.... I can't wish him any worse luck than to be left to THEM." He chuckled and felt of his disarranged tie.
He admitted to himself afterward that it was nothing else than jealousy that suggested to him to make the Rangar prisoner and hand him over to the mullah. That would have been a ridiculous thing to do, for it would have forced his own betrayal to the mullah.
It is because she knows me very well that she chose me to travel North with you, when you start to find her in the 'Hills'!" King cleared his throat, and the Rangar nodded, looking into his eyes with the engaging confidence of a child who never has been refused anything, in or out of reason. King made no effort to look pleased, so the Rangar drew on his resources.
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