"What! Has he not led you against the Feringhis? Surely in no better way could he prove his devoutness."
"That is very true, and he will lead us when the time comes. There is no doubt of our bravery; we came from Nimuch, and were not admitted to the city until we had covered ourselves with glory in a fight with the English. But our subadhar has only of late been appointed to command us, and since then we have not been outside the walls. We lost very heavily at Badli-ki-serai, the day before those Guides—accursed traitors—came into the English camp. We killed thousands and thousands of the English, but could not utterly defeat them for want of ammunition. And our subahdar was killed. Though our new subahdar has not fought with us yet, he must be a very brave man, or our king would not have appointed him over the heads of other officers who led us."
"It is well you have a subahdar so much to your mind," said Ahmed.
"He is indeed a good man," said another sepoy. "These are hard times, and the great one knows how unjust it is to forbid us to take what we can. He shuts one eye, and if that eye is turned to us when we are taking a little loot—why, Allah is good. In truth"—and here the man dropped his voice—"a part of our loot is set aside, and if it does not find its way to the subahdar, I know not where it goes. 'Twas only yesterday we roasted a rascally shroff until he showed us where his money-bags were hidden. That is as it should be, for the shroffs being vile Hindus, it is not meet that the faithful should want while the unbelievers are waxing fat with great gain. In truth, good banijara, Minghal Khan is a noble officer, and if you do but wait a little, maybe he will buy somewhat of you, seeing that you are of his race."
Ahmed wondered whether he had concealed the start of surprise he felt he had involuntarily given when the name of Minghal Khan was mentioned. That wily enemy of his father was here in Delhi, then, playing a new part. His impulse was to depart at once, lest Minghal should return and discover him. His disguise, to be sure, was good: it was hardly likely that any one who knew Ahmed the boy would recognize him in the bearded trader—and Ahmed found the beard, fixed on with a kind of glue, decidedly uncomfortable. But Minghal was an adept at disguises himself, as his appearance at Mardan as a fakir proved; and if he heard this supposed trader's voice, Ahmed feared that he was lost.
As ill-luck would have it, before he could decently break off his conversation and take his departure, a jamadar of the regiment returned, and, seeing the bundle, demanded that it should be opened. There was no help for it; Ahmed had to display his wares, and was immediately engaged in a haggling bout. Being thoroughly uneasy, he determined to cut the business short, and indeed concluded a bargain with a rapidity and at a sacrifice that evidently surprised his customer. Ahmed hastened to assure him that at an ordinary time he would rather starve than accept such a price, but what was a poor trader to do in these times of trouble? He must take what he could get and be thankful.
The natural result of this was that the customer hesitated. Perhaps if he haggled a little longer he would get the article—a fine embroidered shawl—still cheaper. But Ahmed now spoke up resolutely.
"No, I must make sacrifices; it is fate; but I will not give my goods away. Here, Ali, the hazur does not want the shawl. Roll it up in the bundle; we will be gone."
And then the jamadar, fearing he might lose his bargain after all, closed with the offer, and paid the price.
It was only just in time. The coolie was actually rolling up the bundle when Minghal Khan himself, accompanied by two or three subordinate officers, turned the corner, and approached the door of the barracks at which the chaffering had been going on. Ahmed instinctively bent down, in spite of his disguise, to avoid recognition, and helped the man to tie up the bundle. One of the sepoys with whom he had been in conversation nudged him.