"But there must be more loot to take from those on the road and in the groves."
"It may be, but there is plenty left in the city for those who do not loiter on the way. If you wish to search the grove, do so."
The ruffians looked in each other's faces and muttered something. Then they seemed to conclude that the best thing to do was to move on toward Delhi. The leader gave Luchman a parting salutation, and the half dozen horsemen resumed their journey on a slow walk.
The little party hiding in the luxuriant vegetation stealthily watched every movement of the brigands, and breathed freely when they started forward again.
They had advanced only a few paces, however, when the leader uttered an exclamation and checked his horse. Luchman turned his head, and the Ghoojur beckoned him to approach.
"What is that?" he asked, pointing to the side of the path.
Luchman, to his dismay, saw a shred from the dress of Marian Hildreth that had been torn off in her hurried flight, and was fluttering from a bush as if the bright signal was meant to show every one who passed whither she had gone.
The texture of the shred, and the peculiar circumstances, spoke the nationality of the young lady too plainly for Luchman to attempt to mislead the scoundrels. He stood looking at the tell tale piece as though he was as much astounded as were the Ghoojurs themselves. Then he scanned the ground with the keen scrutiny of an American Indian.
"Yes," he said, as if he had at last solved the problem; "a party of Feringhees have been this way; there were a good many, and," looking up abruptly in the face of the leader, "do you want to attack them?"
"That I will decide for myself," was the answer of the ruffian, as he sprang from his pony and began examining the ground for himself. He was as shrewd as Luchman, and it took him only a few minutes to learn that the fugitives were four in number, and that two of them were females. No more tempting prize could offer itself.