Carl knew he couldn't be hypnotized against his will, but the Hindoo's eyes were working havoc with his nerves.
"You come!"
The words of Ben Ali were imperative. Carl, seemingly unable to remove his own eyes from the Hindoo's, followed as Ben Ali retreated toward the wagon. At the end of the wagon Ben Ali made some passes with his hands in front of Carl's face, then opened the door.
"You get in, sahib!"
Carl climbed into the wagon mechanically. Slam went the door and click went a key in the padlock.
The Comet had come down from its disastrous flight at a considerable distance from the tents. There were no people in the immediate vicinity save Ping.
The little Chinaman, on hands and knees under the lower wing of the aëroplane, was watching covertly all that took place.
After locking the door of the cage wagon, Ben Ali took a cautious look around him. He saw no one.
Climbing up on one of the forward wheels, he took a slouch hat and a long linen duster from the seat, removed his embroidered coat and his turban, got into the hat and duster, climbed to the seat, picked up the reins, and drove off.
Ping had seen it all, but had made no attempt to interfere. And he made no attempt now.