y! Ride and cut him off! There is
but one road to Alwa's place; he must pass by the northern ford through
Howrah River. Ride and cut him off!"

So, loose-reined, foam-flecked, breathing vengeance, Jaimihr and his
hundred thundered through the dark hot night, making a bee-line for the
point where Alwa's band must pass in order to take the shortest route to
safety.

It was his word to the Jew that saved Alwa's neck. He and his men were
riding borrowed horses, and he had promised to return them and reclaim
his own. They had moved at a walk through winding, dark palace-alleys,
led by a palace attendant, and debouched through a narrow door that gave
barely horse-room into the road where Jaimihr had once killed a Maharati
trader who molested Rosemary McClean. The missionary and his daughter
were mounted on the horses seized in Jaimihr's stable; Joanna, moaning
about "three gold mohurs, sahib--three, where are they?" was up behind
Ali Partab, tossed like a pea on a drum-skin by the lunging movements of
the wonder of a horse.

Instead of heading straight for home, in which case--although he did not
know it--he would have been surely overhauled and brought to bay, he led
at a stiff hand gallop to the Jew's, changed horses, crossed the ford by
the burning ghats, and swooped in a wide half-circle for the sandy trail
that would take him homeward. He made the home road miles beyond the
point where Jaimihr waited for him--drew rein into the long-striding
amble that desert-taught horses love--and led on, laughing.

"Ho!" He laughed. "Ho-ho! Here, then, is the end of Mahommed Gunga's
scheming! Now, when he comes with arguments to make me fight on the
British side, what a tale I have for him! Ho! What a swearing there will
be! I will give him his missionary people, and say, 'There, Mahommed
Gunga, cousin mine, there is my word redeemed--there is thy man into the
bargain--there are three horses for thee--and I--I am at Howrah's beck
and call!' Allah! What a swearing there will be!"

There was swearing, viler and more blasphemous than any of which
Mahommed Gunga might be capable, where Jaimihr waited in the dark. He
waited until the yellow dawn broke up the first dim streaks of violet
before he realized that Alwa had given him the slip; and he cursed even
the high priest of Siva when that worthy accosted him and asked what
tidings.

"Another trick!" swore Jaimihr. "So, thou and thy temple rats saw fit to
send me packing for the nig