“Now, brothers,” Kassim said, when the curtain entrance had ceased to be thrust to one side, “we will say what is to be said.  One will stand guard just without for this is a matter for the officers alone.”

He took from his waist the silver chain and unlocked the iron box, brought forth the paper that Barlow had carried, and holding it aloft, said:  “This is the message of brotherhood from the English Raj.  Are ye all agreed that it is acceptable to our people?”

“In the name of Allah we are,” came as a sonorous chorus from one and all.

“And are ye agreed that it shall be said to the Captain Sahib, who is envoy from the Englay, that we ride in peace to his people, or ride not at all in war?”

“Allah! it is agreed,” came the response.

He turned to Barlow.  “Captain Sahib, thou hast heard.  The word of a Pindari, taken in the name of Allah, is inviolate.  That is our answer to the message from the Englay Chief.  There is no writing to be given, for a Pindari deals in yea and nay.  Is it to be considered.  Captain Sahib; is it a message to send that is worthy of men to men?”

“It is, Commander Kassim,” Barlow answered.

“Then wait thou for the seal.”

He raised his tulwar aloft,—­and as he did so the steel of every jamadar and hazari flashed upward,—­saying, “We Pindaris and Bundoolas who rode for Amir Khan, and now ride for Kassim, swear in the name of Allah, and on the Beard of Mahomet, who is his Prophet, friendship to the Englay Raj.”

“By Allah and the Beard of Mahomet, who is his Prophet, we make oath!” the deep voices boomed solemnly.

“It is all,” Kassim said quietly.  “I would make speech for a little with the Captain.”

As each officer passed toward the door he held out a hand and gripped the hand of the Englishman.

When they had gone Kassim said:  “Go thou back, Sahib, to the one who is to receive our answer, and let our promise be sent to the one who commands the Englay army and is even now at Tonk, in Mewar, for the purpose of putting the Mahrattas to the sword.  Tell the Sahib to strike and drive the accursed dogs from Mewar, and have no fear that the Pindaris will fall upon his flank.  Even also our tulwars and our spears are ready for service so be it there is a reward in lands and gold.”

The Pindari Chief paced the marble floor twice, then with his eyes watching the effect of his words in the face of Barlow he said:  “Captain Sahib, it is of an affair of feeling I would speak now.  It relates to the woman who has done us all a service, which but shows what a perception Amir Khan had; a glance and he knew a man for what he was.  Therein was his power over the Pindaris.  And it seems, which is rarer, that he knew what was in the heart of a woman, for the Gulab is one to rouse in a man desire.  And I, myself, years of hard riding and combat having taken me out of my colt-days, wondered why the Chief, being busy otherwise, and a man of short temper, should entail labour in the way of claiming her regard.  I may say, Sahib, that a Pindari seizes upon what he wants and backs the claiming with his sword.  But now it is all explained—­the wise gentleness that really was in the heart of one so fierce as the Chief—­Allah rest his soul!  What say thou, Captain Sahib?”