, whom he hated with the same rabid
ferocity that possessed the soul of Nana Sahib, was busy. From
Pondicherry he had inveigled French gunners; and from Goa, Portuguese.
Also these renegade whites were skilled in drill. If Holkar and
Bhonsla did their part it would be Armageddon when the hell that was
brewing burst.

But Baptiste feared the Pindari. As he swung here and there on his
Arab the horse's hoofs seemed to pound from the resonant sands the
words "Amir Khan--Amir Khan! Pin-dar-is, Pin-dar-is!"

It was as he discussed this very thing with his Minister, Dewan Sewlal,
that Nana Sahib swirled up the gravelled drive to the bungalow on his
golden-chestnut Arab, in his mind an inspiration gleaned from something
that had been.

His greeting of the two was light, sporty; his thin well-chiselled face
carried the bright indifferent vivacity of a fox terrier.

"Good day, Sirdar," he cried gaily; and, "How listen the gods to your
prayers, my dear Dewani?"

Baptiste, out of the fulness of his heart soon broached the troublous
thing: "Prince," he begged, "obtain from the worthy Peshwa a command
and I'll march against this wolf, Amir Khan, and remove from our path
the threatened danger."

Nana Sahib laughed; his white, even teeth were dazzling as the
black-moustached lip lifted.

"Sirdar, when I send two Rampore hounds from my kennel to make the kill
of a tiger you may tackle Amir Khan. Even if we could crumple up this
blighter it's not cricket--we need those Pindari chaps--but not as dead
men. Besides, I detest bloodshed."

The Dewan rolled his bulbous eyes despairingly: "If Sindhia would send
ten camel loads of gold to this accursed Musselman, we could sleep in
peace," he declared.

"If it were a woman Sindhia would," Nana Sahib sneered.

Baptiste laughed.

"It is a wisdom, Prince, for that is where the revenue goes: women are
a curse in the affairs of men," the Dewan commented.

"With four wives your opinion carries weight, Dewani," and Nana Sahib
tapped the fat knee of the Minister with his riding whip.

Baptiste turned to the Prince. "There will be trouble over these
Pindaris; your friends, the English--eh, Nana Sahib--"

As though the handsome aquiline face of the Peshwa's son had been
struck with a glove it changed to the face of a devil; the lips
thinned, and shrinking, left the strong white teeth bare in a wolf's
snarl. Under the black eyebrows the eyes gleamed like fire-lit amber;
the thin-c