Nick Carter observed that the native had put on clean white raiment, and that there was a ruby holding together the upper garment on his chest. His turban was new and white, and there were more gold anklets and bracelets on him than had been there when they first saw him.
“Who’s the pretty boy with the curtain rings on him?” observed Chick.
“Hum! He is an official of some rank,” whispered Nick Carter.
“Yes, and he’s dolled himself up so that we shall know it,” was the assistant’s smiling reply. “He might be a rajah or a begum or something of that kind, judging by his manner.”
“I want pay for the boat,” returned the man, answering Jai Singh’s question. “I am Baboo Punyah.”
“Say, Chick!” called out Patsy Garvan, from the boat, in a loud whisper. “What in blazes is a baboo?”
“It means ‘gentleman,’” replied Chick quickly. “Shut up, will you?”
“If that’s what it means, I don’t believe that guy’s it,” grumbled Patsy. “I thought it was some kind of monkey.”
“You have been paid,” was all Jai Singh condescended to reply to the demand of Baboo Punyah. “Go back! We proceed on our way in our own boat.”
But Baboo Punyah, having by this time eight or ten natives behind him on whom he believed he could rely at a pinch, was not to be lightly dismissed.