"Where?" Finnerty questioned.
"He will go up in the hills to the village of Kohima, where he was caught in a trap. It is said he killed many people near that village, for he was a man-eater."
"How far is Kohima?"
"It is six kos, or perhaps eight, and again it might be that it is ten by the road, but the chita will go through the jungle in a matter of half that distance."
The Banjara laughed, clapping a cupped palm over his mouth, giving vent to a note of derision. "The little monkey has a desire in his belly, sahib," he said, ceasing his popping mirth. "The women of Kohima are famed for the arak they distill, so Mahadua, with the sahib to pay for it, would get in a state to see leopards even in the village."
"I think we'd better get rid of this argument," Finnerty remarked, adding: "Come to the bungalow for your pay, Lumbani."
Calling their dogs, the Banjara and his brother departed.
"Now we're up against a mental dead wall, captain. What shall we do?" Finnerty asked.
"You'd like to go after Burra Moti, of course—"
"Yes; but I'd rather pot this black devil. I don't want any natives' blood on my head."