He made a last appeal:
“Listen, Calaman: You have seen that you could not keep me in your dungeon, and that should show you I am worthy to fight your Scarab. If I can set you at defiance in your own temple, why should I not be allowed to go further and prove that the things you send out to battle for you are also of no account?”
Jai Singh had purposely made his tone, as well as his words, as insulting as he could. He wanted to stir the priest to unreasoning wrath, believing that that might lead, sooner than anything else, to his being accepted as a foe for the Golden Scarab.
But Calaman was too crafty to be carried into indiscretion by his own anger.
He controlled himself with a strong effort, and waved Jai Singh away, at the same time nodding to some of his attendants.
The priest was really afraid that this tall, supple Hindu, with his spear, might prove victor in a contest with the Golden Scarab, and he dared not take the chance.
Half a dozen soldiers jumped into the arena and cautiously approached Jai Singh.
“Stand back!” he warned them, flourishing his spear. “I am here, standing on my rights, and I will not move.” Then, to Calaman: “You have promised that if any champion beats the Scarab, he can claim any reward he wants. Isn’t that so?”
“It is the rule,” answered Calaman coldly. “But it does not concern you.” Then, to his soldiers: “Seize him, guards! I’ll see whether strangers of his race can come and beard me on this day of all others—the most sacred one known to Shangore.”
This bombastical speech did not impress Jai Singh. He raised his spear with the firm intention of running through the body the first soldier to come within reach, when a well-known voice in his ear thundered: