“This priest is much nearer,” returned Jai Singh. “He prepares the things required for feasts of the god in Bolongu.”
Nick Carter got to his feet and looked at the tall, dignified Hindu in some impatience.
“What the deuce do you mean?” he demanded. “And why should we care for one priest? Where are the men we drove back yesterday?”
Before Jai Singh could speak, there came an answer to Nick Carter’s query which could not be mistaken.
It was a concerted howl of hatred and vengeance, which reverberated among the rocks and seemed to be close at hand.
Nick jumped to his feet, his rifle in hand, ready for instant use, as he looked around for the other men of his party.
Jai Singh smiled soberly and shook his head.
“They are not in our camp, nor very near the place we hide,” he said. “The sahib can put down his gun for the present.”
“I heard them not more than a hundred yards away,” insisted Nick Carter.
Again Jai Singh shook his head, while the smile his dark face had worn before crept slowly to the corners of his mouth and into his deep eyes.