“To the great Company, huzur.  The sahib will tell you.”

“The sahib—­what sahib?” asked the rider in astonishment.

“The sahib yonder,” replied the man, pointing to Bulger.

Bulger had been staring at the horseman, and growing more and more red in the face.  Catching the rider’s surprised look, he could contain himself no longer.

“By thunder! ’tis that villain Diggle!” he shouted, and rushed forward to drag him from his horse.

But Diggle was not taken unawares.  Setting spurs to his steed, he caused it to spring away.  Bulger raised his musket, but ere he could fire Diggle was out of range.  Keeping a careful distance he rode leisurely along the whole convoy, and a smile of malignant pleasure shone upon his face as he took stock of its contents.

Meanwhile Bulger, already repenting of his hasty action, hurried forward to acquaint Desmond with what had happened.  Diggle’s smile broadened; he halted and took a long look at the tall figure in native dress to whom Bulger was so excitedly speaking.  Then, turning his horse in the direction of the river, he spoke over his shoulder to his syces and galloped away, followed by them at a run.

“You were a fool, Bulger,” said Desmond testily.  “This may lead to no end of trouble.”

Bulger looked penitent, and wrathful, and overwhelmed.

“We must try to hurry,” added Desmond to Surendra Nath.  “Promise the men more bakshish:  don’t stint.”

For two hours longer they pushed on with all the speed of which the jaded beasts were capable.  Every now and again Desmond looked anxiously back, hoping against hope that they would not be pursued.  But he knew that Diggle had recognized him, and being prepared for the worst, he began to rack his brains for some means of defense.

Misfortune seemed to dog him.  Two of the oxen collapsed.  It was necessary to distribute the loads of their hackeris among the others.  The march was delayed, and when the convoy was again under way, its progress was slower than ever.

It had, indeed, barely started, when in the distance Desmond spied a horseman cantering towards them.  A few minutes revealed him as Diggle.  He rode up almost within musket shot, then turned and trotted back.

What was the meaning of his action?  Desmond, from his position near the foremost hackeri, could see nothing more.  But, a few yards ahead of him, to the right of the track, there was a low artificial mound, possibly the site of an ancient temple, standing at the edge of a nullah, its top some ten or twelve feet above the surrounding plain.  Hastening to this he gained the summit, and, looking back, saw a numerous body of men on foot advancing rapidly from the direction in which the horseman had come.  In twenty minutes they would have come up with the convoy.  He must turn at bay.

He glanced anxiously around.  He was in the midst of an almost bare sun-baked plain, the new-sown fields awaiting the rains to spring into verdure.  Here and there were clumps of trees—­the towering palmyra with its fan-shaped foliage, the bamboo with its feathery branches, the plantain, throwing its immense leaves of vivid green into every fantastic form.  There was no safety on the plain.