"What else is there to do?" he asked Raal.
"Push on! That is my advice, O Master. Many dangers are ahead of us, that is clear, but if we push on bravely we will win through."
Dan spoke up.
"Let's get the Mahatma to translate. Maybe there is something to what the black boy is proposing."
Dick led Mutaba to where the Hindu was preparing for the journey. The wise man had no idea of traveling on foot, like the negroes, or on horseback, like Dick's warriors.
Instead he had ordered his devoted followers to construct an elaborate litter like a Pullman berth. It was covered with woven vines and leaves, to make a private compartment where he could lie back or sit cross-legged and meditate. The litter was hung on two long poles, extra stout to support his weight, and no less than eight bearers, all matched for size, carried it easily along the narrow trail.
The Mahatma poked his head out of the curtain of leaves, as Dick hailed him.
"Who comes to disturb my meditations?" he demanded. "Ah, Dick Sahib, it is you. Whereof would you ask advice of the Master?"
"It is about this guide," Dick explained. "He has something on his mind."
"Speak, son!" said the Mahatma inclining his head sideways.