drawn by a spanking pair of bay Arabs with black points. Beside him
sat the Resident's daughter, Elizabeth Hodson, and in the seat behind
was Captain Barlow.

At the pipal Nana Sahib reined in the bays sharply, saying, "Hello,
General, wanted to see you for a minute--called at the bungalow, and
your servant said you had gone down this way. What's up?" he
questioned after greetings had passed between Baptiste, Barlow and
Elizabeth Hodson.

"Just some new recruits, scouts, taking the oath of service," and
Baptiste closed an eye in a caution-giving wink.

A slight sneer curled the thin lips of Nana Sahib; he understood
perfectly what Baptiste meant by the wink--that the Englishman being
there, it would be as well to say little about the Bagrees. But the
Prince had no very high opinion of Captain Barlow's perceptions, of his
finer acuteness of mind; the thing would have to be very plainly
exposed for the Captain to discover it. He was a good soldier, Captain
Barlow--that happy mixture of brain and brawn and courage that had
coloured so much of the world's map red, British; he was the terrier
class--all pluck, with perhaps the pluck in excelsis--the brain-power
not preponderant.

"Who is the handsome native--he looks like a Rajput?" Elizabeth asked,
indicating the man who was evidently the leader among the others.

"That is Ajeet Singh, chief of these men," Baptiste answered.

"He is a handsome animal," Nana Sahib declared.