know them, his force being small.  The Government had assured Colonel Starr that the Maharajah of Chita would be easy to arrange; that he was a tractable person, and that half the usual number of troops would be ample, which made His Highness’s conduct, if anything, more annoying.  And Colonel Starr’s commissariat, even in respect to ‘tinned rock,’ had not been supplied with the expectation of besieging Lalpore.  The attack would be uncertain, and the Colonel hesitated the more because his instructions had been not to take the place if he could avoid it.  So the commanding officer paced his tent, and composed fresh messages to the Maharajah, while Lieutenant Pink wondered in noble disgust whether the expedition was going to end in moonshine after all, and Thomas Jones, sergeant, remarked hourly to his fellow-privates, ’The 17th ’aint come two ‘undred miles for this kind of a joke.  The bloomin’ Maharajer ‘ull think we’ve got a funk on.’

But neither Colonel Starr nor Thomas Jones was acquainted with the reason of the remarkable attitude of Lalpore.

A week before, when the news reached him that the Viceroy was sending three hundred men and two guns to remonstrate with him for his treatment of Dr. Roberts, the Maharajah smiled, thinking of the bravery of his Chitans, the strength of his fortifications, the depth of his walls, and the wheat stored in his city granaries.  No one had ever taken Lalpore since the Chitans took it—­in all Rajputana there were none so cunning and so brave as the Chitans.  As to bravery, greater than Rajput bravery simply did not exist.  The Maharajah held a council, and they all sported with the idea of English soldiers coming to Lalpore.  Maun Rao begged to go out and meet them to avenge the insult.

‘Maharajah,’ said he, ’the Chitans are sufficient against the world; why should we speak of three hundred monkeys’ grandsons?  If the sky fell, our heads would be pillars to protect you!’

And after a long discussion the Maharajah agreed to Maun Rao’s proposal.  The English could come only one way.  A day’s march from Lalpore they would be compelled to ford a stream.  There the Maharajah’s army would meet them, ready, as Maun Rao said in the council, to play at ball with their outcast heads.  There was a feast afterwards, and everybody had twice as much opium as usual.  In the midst of the revelry they made a great calculation of resources.  The Maharajah smiled again as he thought of the temerity of the English in connection with the ten thousand rounds of ammunition that had just come to him on camel back through Afghanistan from Russia—­it was a lucky and timely purchase.  Surji Rao, Minister of the Treasury, when this was mentioned, did not smile.  Surji Rao had bought the cartridges at a very large discount, which did not appear in the bill, and he knew that not even Chitan valour could make more than one in ten of them go off.  Therefore, when the Maharajah congratulated Surji Rao upon his foresight in urging the replenishment of the arsenal at this particular time, Surji Rao found it very difficult to congratulate himself.