"Where the roofs look like big gold umbrellas, I know," said the English boy. "My name is Harry, and Colonel Scott is my father. My mother and I have just come from England; but my papa has been here a long time. While he was buying something in one of the shops, I followed a man who had a lot of performing birds; and the first thing I knew I had lost my way." Harry rattled away, glad to find some one to talk to.
Chola could understand him fairly well, for he had been taught a little English at his school.
"Yonder stands a 'rickshaw.' It will take you quickly to your home," said Chola, proud to be able to talk to a little Sahib.
The little Hindu boys hailed the "rickshaw," and, nearly bursting with importance, bargained with the man who pulled it to take the little Sahib home.
"Perhaps I shall see you again, for I am going to live here now," said Harry, as he thanked the boys and climbed into the "rickshaw," which looked like a big perambulator. Away the man went with it at a lively trot, with Harry waving his cap in the air as a good-bye to his new-found friends.
Chola could talk of nothing but the "little Sahib" as they jogged home in the "ekka" in the dusk of the evening.
There are many English people in India, because it is now a part of the British Empire. So it is not surprising that Chola and Harry should meet in this way and be able to talk to each other. Mahala was very much disappointed because he had not been there, too, when he heard Chola tell of his adventures as they ate their supper.