"The Captain says that he goes to collect revenue, but it may be that
he spoke a lie, for it is said that a man of the land of the Five
Rivers, which is the Punjaub, has five ways of telling a tale, and but
one of them is the truth and comes last."

The girl pondered over this for a little, and then asked; "Does the
Sahib think perhaps it is war against his people?"

That was just what was in Barlow's mind since he had seen the big gun
going forth at night; that perhaps the plot that was just a whisper,
fainter than the hum of a humming bird's wing, was moving with swift
silent velocity.

"Why do you ask that question? Have you heard from lips--perhaps
loosened by wine or desire--aught of this?"

When she remained without answer, Barlow tapped his fingers lightly
upon her shoulder, saying, "Tell me, girl."

"I have heard nothing of war," she said. "There was a something though
that men whispered in the dark."

"What was it?"

"It was of the Chief of the Pindaris."

She felt the quivering start that ran through Barlow's body; but he
said quietly: "With the Pindaris there is always trouble. Something of
robbery--of a raid, was it?"