Suddenly the big Hindu caused his boat to swing around as it approached the ship, and he waved a hand frantically at the rail where Captain, the bloodhound, had poked out his nose and was barking and whimpering alternately in recognition.
“Say, chief!” roared Patsy, looking up to Nick Carter. “That big busher knows you and Captain, too. Look at him.”
“Of course he knows the chief,” put in Chick, who had begun to make signs to the Hindu. “He knows me, too. We’ve been in this part of the world before.”
“Well, who is he, anyhow?” asked Patsy.
“He is a chief in the hill country, and he calls himself Jai Singh.”
“Calls himself?” repeated Patsy. “Isn’t that his real name?”
“Why, yes. I suppose it is. But there was a famous rajah named Jai Singh, who lived about two hundred years ago, and who built observatories at Jaipur and Delhi. The remains of them are still in existence, and astronomers say they were magnificent structures for that time, and would be even in this day.”
“Gee! Where did you get on to all that?” asked Patsy, open-mouthed. “You’re a wonder, Chick.”
“Oh, that’s nothing,” returned Chick. “When I was here with the chief before, we learned a whole lot about India. It was our Jai Singh himself who told us about the rajah and his observatories. He’s a good fellow, but he’s a terror when he gets into a fight. Don’t forget that.”
“He makes those sun-baked bluffs at the oars attend to business, I notice.”