Howrah swore into his beard, as any ruling potentate might well do at being dictated to by a boy of twenty-two.
“I will do my best, sahib,” he answered. “I am with the British—not against them.”
“Good for you!—er, I mean, that's right!” He turned to Alwa, and looked straight into his eyes. “Are you satisfied with the guarantee?” he asked.
“Sahib, I am more than satisfied!”
“Good! Oh, and—Maharajah-sahib—since we've fought your battle for you—and lost a few men—and are going to guard your treasure for you, and be your friends, and all that kind of thing—don't you think you'd like to do something for us—not much, but just a little thing?”
“I am in your power. You have but to command.”
“Oh, no. I don't want to force anything. We're friends—talking as friends. I ask a favor.”
“It is granted, sahib.”
“A horse or two, that's all.”
“How many horses, sahib?”