The authority in Ramabai’s voice was sufficient for the guard, who gave the necessary directions.  The party continued on into town.  It was an odd place for a walled city.  There wasn’t a tree about, not a sign of boscage, except some miles away where the hills began to slope upward.  Bruce wondered what the inhabitants fed upon.  It was more like an Egyptian village than anything he had ever seen in India.  Bruce asked for his rifle, which he laid carelessly in the crook of his arm.  One never could tell.

Presently they came upon a group in the center of which were the dancers at their vocations.  They ceased their mad whirlings at the sight of the two elephants.  There were nine of these men, fierce of eye and built muscularly.  No effeminate Hindus here, mused Bruce, who did not like the looks of them at all.  The surrounding natives stared with variant emotions.  Many of them had never seen a white man before.  Their gaze centered upon the colonel.  Kathlyn was almost as dark as Pundita, and as for Bruce, only his European dress distinguished him from Ramabai, for there was scarcely a shade difference in color.  But the colonel, having been weeks in prison, was as pale as alabaster and his hair shone like threads of silver.

On through the narrow streets, sometimes the sides of the elephants scraping against the mud and plaster of the buildings, and one could easily look into the second stories.  No one seemed hostile; only a natural curiosity was evinced by those standing in doorways or leaning out of windows.

The house of Bala Khan was not exactly a palace, but it was of respectable size.  A high wall surrounded the compound.  There was a gateway, open at this moment.  A servant ran out and loudly demanded what was wanted.

“Say to your master, Bala Khan, that Ramabai, son of Maaho Singh, his old friend, awaits with friendly greetings.”

“Kit,” whispered Kathlyn’s father, “this chap Ramabai wouldn’t make a bad king.  And look!” excitedly.  “There’s the sacred elephant, and if he isn’t white, I’ll eat my hat!”

Kathlyn sighed gratefully.  That her father could be interested in anything was a good sign for the future.  A few days’ rest and wholesome food would put him half-way on his legs.  Her own vitality was an inheritance from her father.  The male line of the family was well known for its recuperative powers.

The servant ran back into the compound and spoke to a dignified man, who proved to be a high caste Brahmin, having in his charge the care of the white elephant.  He disappeared and returned soon with the Khan.  The pleasant face, though proudly molded, together with the simplicity of his appearance, conveyed to Kathlyn the fact that here was a man to be trusted, at least for the present.  He greeted Ramabai cordially, struck his hands and ordered out the servants to take charge of what luggage there was and to lead away the elephants to be fed and watered.