Courteously he asked Kathlyn how she had become injured and Ramabai acted as interpreter.  He then ushered them into his house, spread rugs and cushions for them to sit upon and mildly inquired what had brought the son of his old friend so far.

Colonel Hare spoke several dialects fluently and briefly told (between sips of tea and bites of cakes which had been set out for the guests) his experiences in Allaha.

“The rulers of Allaha,” observed Bala Khan, “have always been half mad.”

Ramabai nodded in agreement.

“You should never have gone back,” went on Bala Khan, lighting a cigarette and eying Kathlyn with wonder and interest.  “Ah, that Durga Ram whom they call Umballa!  I have heard of him, but fortunately for him our paths have not crossed in any way.”  He blew a cloud of smoke above his head.  “Well, he has shown wisdom in avoiding me.  In front of me, a desert; behind me, verdant hills and many sheep and cattle, well guarded.  I am too far away for them to bother.  Sometimes the desert thieves cause a flurry, but that is nothing.  It keeps the tulwar from growing rusty,” patting the great knife at his side.

Bala Khan was muscular; his lean hands denoted work; his clear eyes, the sun and the wind.  He was in height and building something after the pattern of the colonel.

“And to force a crown on me!” said the colonel.

“You could have given it to this Umballa.”

“That I would not do.”

“In each case you showed forethought.  The Durga Ram, when he had you where he wanted you——­” Bala Khan drew a finger suggestively across his throat.  “Ramabai, son of my friend, I will have many sheep for you this autumn.  What is it to me whether you Hindus eat beef or not?” He laughed.

“I am not a Hindu in that sense,” returned Ramabai.  “I have but one God.”

“And Mahomet is His prophet,” said the host piously.

“Perhaps.  I am a Christian.”

Bruce stirred uneasily, but his alarm was without foundation.

“A Christian,” mused Bala Khan.  “Ah, well; have no fear of me.  There is no Mahdi in these hills.  There is but one road to Paradise and argument does not help us on the way.”

Lowly and quickly Pundita translated for Kathlyn so that she might miss none of the conversation.

“The Colonel Sahib looks worn.”

“I am.”

“Now, in my travels I have been to Bombay, and there I dressed like you white people.  I have the complete.  Perhaps the Colonel Sahib would be pleased to see if he can wear it?  And also the use of my barber?”

“Bala Khan,” cried the colonel, “you are a prince indeed!  It will tonic me like medicine.  Thanks, thanks!”

“It is well.”

“You have a wonderful elephant out there in the compound,” said Bruce, who had remained a silent listener to all that had gone before.

“Ah!  That is a curiosity.  He is worshiped by Hindus and reverenced by my own people.  I am his official custodian.  There is a saying among the people that ill will befall me should I lose, sell, or permit him to be stolen.”