“But why,” growled another deep-throated Rajput voice, “does the Sirkar wait?  Why not smite first and swiftly?”

Mahommed Khan moved restlessly and ran his fingers through his beard.

“I know not!” he answered.  “In the days when I was Risaldar in the Rajput Horse, and Bellairs sahib was colonel, things were different!  But we conquered, and after conquest came security.  The English have grown overconfident; they think that Mussulman will always war with Hindu, the one betraying the other; they will not understand that this lies deeper than jealousy—­they will not listen!  Six months ago I rode to Jundhra and whispered to the general sahib what I thought; but he laughed back at me.  He said ‘Wolf! wolf!’ to me and drew me inside his bungalow and bade me eat my fill.”

“Well—­what matters it!  This land has always been the playground of new conquerors!”

“There will be no new conquerors,” growled the old Risaldar, “so long as I and mine have swords to wield for the Raj!”

“But what have the English done for thee or us?”

“This, forgetful one!  They have treated us with honor, as surely no other conquerors had done!  At thy age, I too measured my happiness in cattle and coin and women, but then came Bellairs sahib, and raised the Rajput Horse, and I enlisted.  What came of that was better than all the wealth of Ind!”

He spread his long legs like a pair of scissors and caught a child between them and lifted him.

“Thou ruffian, thou!” he chuckled.  “See how he fights!  A true Rajput!  Nay, beat me not.  Some day thou too shalt bear a sword for England, great-grandson mine.  Ai-ee!  But I grow old.”

“For England or the next one!”

“Nay!  But for England!” said the Risaldar, setting the child down on his knee.  “And thou too, hot-head.  Before a week is past!  Think you I called my sons and grandsons all together for the fun of it?  Think you I rode here through the heat because I needed the exercise or to chatter like an ape or to stand in the doorway making faces at a Hindu woman or to watch thee do it?  Here I am, and here I stay until yet more news comes!”

“Then are we to wait here?  Are we to swelter in Siroeh, eating up our brother’s hospitality, until thy messengers see fit to come and tell us that this scare of thine is past?”

“Nay!” said the Risaldar.  “I said that I wait here!  Return now to your own homes, each of you.  But be in readiness.  I am old, but I can ride still.  I can round you up.  Has any a better horse than mine?  If he has, let him make exchange.”

“There will be horses for the looting if this revolt of thine breaks out!”

“True!  There will be horses for the looting!  Well, I wait here then and, when the trouble comes, I can count on thirteen of my blood to carry swords behind me?”

“Aye, when the trouble comes!”

There was a chorus of assent, and the Risaldar arose to let his sons and grandsons file past him.  He, who had beggared himself to give each one of them a start in life, felt a little chagrined that they should now refuse to exchange horses with him; but his eye glistened none the less at the sight of their stalwart frames and at the thought of what a fighting unit he could bring to serve the Raj.