The Alwa-sahib knew more English than he was willing to admit.  In the first place, he had the perfectly natural dislike of committing his thoughts to any language other than his own when anything serious was the subject of discussion; in the second place, he had little of Mahommed Gunga’s last-ditch loyalty.  Not that Alwa could be disloyal; he had not got it in him; but as yet he had seen no good reason for pledging himself and his to the British cause.

So for more than ten minutes he chose to sit in apparent dudgeon, his hands folded in front of him on the hilt of his tremendous sabre, growling out a monologue in his own language for Mahommed Gunga’s benefit.  Then Mahommed Gunga silenced him with an uplifted hand, and turned to translate to Cunningham.

“It would seem, sahib, that even while we rode to Abu the rebellion was already raging!  It burst suddenly.  They have mutinied at Berhampur, and slain their officers.  Likewise at Meerut, and at all the places in between.  At Kohat, in this province they have slain every white man, woman, and child, and also at Arjpur and Sohlat.  The rebels are hurrying to Delhi, where they have proclaimed new rule, under the descendants of the old-time kings.  Word of all this came before dawn today, by a messenger from Maharajah Howrah to my cousin here.  My cousin stands pledged to uphold Howrah on his throne; Howrah is against the British; Jaimihr, his brother, is in arms against Howrah.”

“Why did the Alwa-sahib pledge himself to Howrah’s cause?”

Mahommed Gunga—­who knew quite well—­saw fit to translate the question.  With a little sign of irritation Alwa growled his answer.

“He says, sahib, that for the safety of two Christian missionaries, for whom he has no esteem at all, he was forced to swear allegiance to a Hindoo whom he esteems even less.  He says that his word is given!”

“Does he mean that he would like me and the missionaries to leave his home at once—­do we embarrass him?”

Again Mahommed Gunga—­this time with a grin—­saw fit to ask before he answered.

“He says, ‘God forbid,’ sahib; ‘a guest is guest!’”

Cunningham reflected for a moment, then leaned forward.

“Tell him this!” he said slowly.  “I am glad to be his guest, but, if this story of rebellion is true—­”

“It is true, sahib!  More than true!  There is much more to be told!”

“Then, I can only accept his hospitality as the representative of my government!  I stay here officially, or not at all.  It is for him to answer!”

“Now, Allah be praised!” swore Mahommed Gunga.  “I knew we had a man!  That is well said, sahib!”

“The son of Cunnigan-bahadur is welcome here on any terms at all!” growled Alwa when Mahommed Gunga had translated.  “All the rebels in all India, all trying at once, would fail to take this fort of mine, had I a larger garrison.  But what Rangar on this countryside will risk his life and estates on behalf of a cause that is already lost?  If they come to hold my fort for me, the rebels will burn their houses.  The British Raj is doomed.  We Rangars have to play for our own stake!”