to the high-built lamasaries of Tibet. I could enter the
presence of the holy Dalai Lama himself and find welcome in the circles
of the wise men of the high places."

"You can do all those things, once you have set free the captives,"
said Dick firmly.

"Sure," said Dan. "We will help you. My father has a plane that will
fly you to India."

"Your father will fly with me to Holy India?" The Mahatma looked at
Dan for the first time with respectful interest. "The voice told me
that it would be so," he replied. "An unlicked cub would first annoy
me by his foolish teasing, then would cause me to be carried through
the air to the land of the sacred Ganges."

"Any place you want to go!" said Dan.

"Help me first, and we'll show you the crown and fly with you to
India," Dick promised.

"Only we can't waste any more time here," urged Dan.

"Raal and his warriors are impatient," said Dick. "And so am I."

"Enough!" The Mahatma was through preaching patience. He clapped his
hands and the tracker Mutaba ran to him, falling on his knees and
awaiting orders.

"The days of peace are ended," said Sikandar.

"Good, O Holy Man!"

"And my days with you are nearly at an end."

Mutaba uttered a wail of grief, but Sikandar spoke sharply:

"Lead the way with hatchets and cut a path through the jungle for the
Taharans and the Gorols. And when you come to the camp of the
Muta-Gungas, fight as you never fought before."

"Good, O Master. Good!"

"My litter will follow close behind army," said Mahatma Sikandar.
"This is a holy war. Till it is ended, there shall be no more talk of
peace."

"Or of patience!" cried Dan.

"We strike for the Princess Veena!" Raal exclaimed, signalling to his
warriors.

"We fight for our Holy Man!" cried Mutaba, leading his hatchet-bearers
into the jungle.

"We fight for the rescue of my sister--and your father!" Dan Carter
exclaimed, clapping Dick on the shoulder. "This is bully. Now we are
going to put up a swell fight!"

"We fight for the crown of wisdom," said Mahatma Sikandar. "Forward to
battle!"

CHAPTER XII

STAMPEDE

The jungle closed in upon the warriors. They seemed like insects
winding through a patch of grass, for the trees grew high and thick
above them and the saplings crowded close to the trail.

The Kungoras used their hatchets and the Stone-Age men slashed with
their flint implements, cutting away the creepers and vines that
blocked their passage