The Boy's face blanched. He had been away to the nearest station, fifty miles off, for a three days' holiday at Christmas, and the remembrance of a laughing girl with blue eyes came back to him now with a rush. Hoshyari saw his chance, and went on----
"The plans were laid for later on, Huzoor, so they are taken by surprise themselves; yet it gives them advantage also, since everywhere the Sahibs are taken by surprise also; if only they had been prepared it might be different."
The cunning told; the Boy's face hardened into thought. Fifty miles on, along the road. He might do it.
"When did they come in? I suppose they forced the guard," he added, his voice almost breaking in its resentment.
"About noon, Huzoor," came the wily tones. "They were wearied out."
So much the better; they would not start, likely, till just before dawn next day. If he could give warning. He rose and looked round for his horse.
Hoshyari rose also. "The Salt of the Earth cannot ride through the gate," he said--the time for dissuasion had come now. "He will only be killed in the attempt."
The Boy rounded on him instantly. "Didn't I always tell you you were the greatest scoundrel unhung? Now I've found you out, you skunk!"
"Has this slave not always said the Huzoor was as the Salt of the Earth," came the instant rapid reply. "My lord, listen! This is the Hand of Fate. Wise men bow to it. You are here, safe, alone, none know of you. Come with this slave and he will save you ..."
"D--n you, you scoundrel," shouted the Boy blindly, and fumbled for the stirrups.