“The king!” shouted the surprised mahout to the guards, who had not seen the man or the turban.

“What king, fool?” returned the guards.

“The white king who was betrothed this day!  Ai, ai!  I have seen the royal turban.  It is he!”

The guards derided him.  So, finding no hope in them, he ran to his elephant, mounted and rode back into town.  Durga Ram would pay well for this news.

“Father,” said Kathlyn reproachfully, “that mahout recognized you.  I warned you not to move the curtain.”

Bruce shrugged.

“But, Kit,” returned her father, “Ahmed was so infernally slow!  He could spend time in chattering to the guards.”

Ahmed heard, but said nothing.

“Never mind,” interposed Bruce pacifically.  “At any rate we shall have the advantage of a couple of hours, and Umballa will not catch us with the elephants he has at hand.  By the time he starts his expedition we shall be thirty miles away.  Let us be cheerful!”

“Kit,” said her father, “I couldn’t help it.  I can’t think quickly any more.  I am like a man in a nightmare.  I’ve been down to hell, and I can’t just yet realize that I am out of it.  I’m sorry!”

“Poor dad!” Kathlyn pressed him in her arms, while Bruce nodded enviously but approvingly.

By and by they drew aside the curtains.  Kathlyn saw here and there objects which recalled her first journey along this highway.  If only she had known!

“One thing is forecast,” said Bruce.  “When Ramabai returns it will be to fight.  He will not be able to avoid it now.  I shouldn’t mind going back with him.  Ahmed, what is this strange hold Umballa has over the actions of the Council of Three?  They always appear to be afraid of him.”

“Ah, Sahib,” said Ahmed, resting his ankus or goad on the skull of his mount, “there is said to be another prisoner in the palace prison.  Lal Singh knows, I believe.”

“What’s your idea?”

“Sahib, when I put you all safe over the frontier I am coming back to Allaha to find out.”  And that was all Ahmed would say regarding the subject.

“I’ll wager he knows,” whispered Bruce.

“But who can it be?  Another poor devil of a white man?  Yet how could a white man influence the actions of the council?” The colonel spoke irritably.

“Look!”—­from Kathlyn; “there is one of those wonderful trees they call the flame of the jungle.”  She called their attention to the tree merely to cause a diversion.  She wanted to keep her father’s thoughts away from Allaha.

So they journeyed on into the sunset, into twilight, into the bright starry night.

Back in the city the panic was already being forgot as a thing of the past.  The leopards were back at their patrolling; the high officials and dignitaries, together with the unsuccessful candidates, had gone their several ways.  Umballa alone paced the halls, well satisfied with the events of the day, barring the disturbance caused by the escape of the leopards.