As he read it Mahommed Gunga galloped up to him, grinning like a boy.
“Cunnigan-sahib's respects, General-sahib! He asks leave to call his men off, saying that he has done all the damage possible with only fifteen hundred.”
“Yes. Call 'em off and send Cunningham to me. How did he shape?”
“Like a son of Cunnigan-bahadur! General-sahib-salaam!”
“No. Here, you old ruffian—shake hands, will you? Now send Cunningham to me.”
Cunningham came up fifteen minutes later, with a Rangar orderly behind him, and did his best to salute as though it were nothing more than an ordinary meeting.
“Oh! Here you are. 'Gratulate you, Cunningham! You came in the nick of time. What kept you?”
“That 'ud take a long time to tell, sir. I've fifteen hundred horses about ten miles from here, sir, left in charge of native levies, and I'd like permission to go and fetch them before the levies make off with them.”
“Splendid! Yes, you'd better go for them. What's in the wagons.”
“The Howrah treasure, sir!”