“We’d better clear away,” said Alec. “I know Major Lawson; he’ll tell whether the man is genuine.”
“Hope his news is true. It’ll be a feather in our caps if we help to catch the Nana. Where is Pindijang?”
“No idea. It’s rather a fishy business altogether, and I’m afraid it’s a trap.”
“I shouldn’t be surprised,” Ted replied. “I hope not, though, for it may be a great score for us if we help to catch the ruffian.”
They lost no time in reaching camp, and Alec led the way to Major Lawson’s quarters, where they told the story of the encounter with the mysterious yogi, and how they had been referred to him for a character.
“Pancham Tewari is to be trusted,” said the major. “He’s an old friend of mine, and he loves the Nana Sahib about as much as we do, for the scoundrel has dispossessed the Tewari family of their lands by fraud some time ago, and Pancham would do anything to get even with him. I’ll see this matter through. Not a word to a soul, mind.”
They kept their own counsel, and had heard no more about the matter when they turned in for the night. But Ted Russell felt sure that something was in the air, and could hardly sleep for excitement. He dreamt that he was engaged in hand-to-hand conflict with a yogi, who quite casually changed to the infamous Rajah of Bithur, and, emerging from the bed of the Ganges, chased him for many miles, finally tripping him up; whereupon Ted caught him by the throat, and the murderer began to groan. He awoke and listened. Surely someone was groaning close at hand! Alec had of late been sharing his tent, and he stretched out his hand and groped for his chum.
“What’s wrong?” came a growl.
“Listen!”
“It is only the silly camels warbling. Go to sleep.”