But his ten iron fingers held her in a vise-like grip and she could not have answered him if she had tried to.
“O Risaldar!” called Ruth suddenly, with her head still out of the window. He released the ayah and let her tumble as she pleased into a heap.
“Heavenborn?”
“What is that red glow on the skyline over yonder?”
“A burning, heavenborn!”
“A burning? What burning? Funeral pyres? It's very big for funeral pyres!”
“Nay, heavenborn!”
“What, then?”
She was still unfrightened, unsuspicious of the untoward. The Risaldar's arrival on the scene had quite restored her confidence and she felt content to ride with him to Jundhra on the morrow.
“Barracks, heavenborn!”