“By Jove!” exclaimed Jack, “that explains something that the palanquin bearer said to me about there being so many Inglese where there are none to-day.  I could not catch his meaning, though he mentioned Meerut.  But he gave me to understand that it was not quite time yet for the uprising, which would come in a few weeks.”

“Those things are apt to be precipitated.  I have no doubt that the mutineers burned the city last night.  If so, the main body will hurry to Delhi, which, being the ancient capital of the Mogul Empire, will become the new one.  Some of the rebels may take it into their heads to come in this direction.  What is the matter, Dr. Everson?”

CHAPTER III.

Yankee marksmanship.

As Jack Everson was seated he faced the broad, sluggish Ganges, with the low, green banks beyond.  He was looking over the water, in the rays of the declining sun, when he saw something that caused him to rise hastily from his seat and peer earnestly across the river toward the opposite shore.  Observing his action, the doctor asked his question.  Both he and his daughter, rising to their feet, gazed in the same direction.  It was easy to see what had attracted the attention of their guest.  A party of horsemen, fully twenty, if not more, in number, had approached the river and were now halted on the other side, looking across in the direction of Dr. Marlowe’s home, as if debating the question of making it a visit.

“Let me get my glass,” said Mary, starting toward the house, hardly a hundred feet distant.

“Allow me to bring it,” interrupted Jack.  “It is on one of the chairs on the veranda, and I want my rifle.”

Taking the glass from him on his return, the young woman levelled it at the group of horsemen on the other side.

“I cannot make out who they are,” she said, passing the glass to her father.

It took the parent but a few seconds to answer the question.  One sweeping glance told him.

“They are Ghoojurs,” he remarked, with as much calmness as he could assume.

“And who are Ghoojurs?” asked Jack Everson, less excited than his friends.

“They belong to the nomadic tribes which originally occupied India, and are among the worst wretches in the world.  They are brigands and robbers, who are to be dreaded at all times.  Now, if the revolt has broken out, they will be as merciless as tigers.”

“It looks as if they intended to make us a visit, doctor?”

“Alas! there can be no earthly doubt of it.”

“Let us hurry into the jungle,” said Mary, her face paling with fear.  “We have not a minute to waste.”

“The advice is good, but before acting on it I should like to make an experiment.”

During this brief interval Jack Everson had carefully examined his rifle to assure himself that it was in good condition.