Then Mahommed Gunga rose and paced the floor like a man in armor, tugging at his beard and kicking at his scabbard each time that he turned at either end.

“What Rangar in this province would have had one yard of land to his name but for this man’s father?” he demanded.  “In his day we fought, all of us, for what was right!  We threw our weight behind him when he led, letting everything except obedience go where the devil wanted it!  What came of that?  Good tithes, good report, good feeling, peace!”

“And then, the zemindary laws!” growled Alwa.  “Then the laws that took away from us full two-thirds of our revenue!”

“We had had no revenue, except for Cunnigan-bahadur!”

It dawned on Cunningham exactly why and how he came to be there!  He understood now that Mahommed Gunga had told nothing less than truth when he declared it had been through his scheming, and no other man’s, that he—­Cunningham—­whose sole thought was to be a soldier, had been relegated to oblivion and politics!  He understood why Byng had signed the transfer, and he knew—­knew—­knew—­deep down inside him that his chance had come!

“It seems that another Cunningham is to have the honor of preserving Rangars’ titles for them,” he smiled.  “How many horsemen could the Alwa-sahib raise?”

“That would depend!” Alwa was in no mood to commit himself.

“At the most—­at a pinch—­in case of direst need, and for a cause that all agreed on?”

“Two thousand.”

“Horsed and armed?”

“And ready!”

“And you, Alwa-sahib—­are you pledged to fight against the British?”

“Not in so many words.  I swore to uphold Howrah on his throne.  He is against the British.”

“You swore to help smash his brother, Jaimihr?”

“If I were needed.”

“And Jaimihr too is against the British?”

“Jaimihr is for Jaimihr, and has a personal affair with me!”

“I must think,” said Cunningham, getting up.  “I can think better alone.  D’you mind if I go outside for a while, and come back later to tell you what I think?”

Alwa arose and held the door open for him—­stood and watched him cross the courtyard—­then turned and laughed at Mahommed Gunga.

“Straight over to the woman!” he grinned.  “This leader of thine seems in leading-strings himself already!”

Mahommed Gunga cursed, and cursed again as his own eyes confirmed what Alwa said.

“I tried him all the ways there are, except that one way!” he declared.  “May Allah forgive my oversight!  I should have got him well entangled with a woman before he reached Peshawur!  He should have been heart-broken by this time—­rightly, he should have been desperate with unrequited love!  Byng-bahadur could have managed it!  Byng-bahadur would have managed it, had I thought to advise him!”

He stood, looking over very gloomily at Cunningham, making a dozen wild plans for getting rid of Miss McClean—­by no means forgetting poison —­and the height of Alwa’s aerie from the plain below!  He would have been considerably calmer, could he have heard what Cunningham and Miss McClean were saying.