This was corroborative of the Hindoo's story, as was also the statement made by McGlory.
"Are you subject to attacks like that?" queried Burton, with a distrustful look at the new mahout.
"Not at all, sahib," replied the Hindoo glibly. "It was the first stroke of the kind I have ever suffered. By Krishna, I hope and believe it will be the last."
"Well," remarked Burton grimly, "if you ever have another, you'll be cut out of this aggregation of the world's wonders. Now hike for the menagerie and do your best to curry Rajah down again."
Without a word Dhondaram wheeled and vanished into the crowd. McGlory turned, caught Matt's arm, and pulled him off to one side.
"What's your notion about this, pard?" he asked.
"I haven't any," said Matt. "It's something to think over, Joe, and not form any snap judgments."
The cowboy scowled.
"These Hindoos are all of the same breed, I reckon," he muttered, "and you know what sort of fellows Ben Ali and Aurung Zeeb turned out to be."
Matt nodded thoughtfully.