"Am I a wizard?--Can I cast spells and bring dead men's spirits from
the dead again? I know of no man to take his place," said Mahommed
Gunga sadly.

He was the poorest of them, but they were all, comparatively speaking,
poor men; for the long peace had told its tale on a race of men who
are first gentlemen, then soldiers, and last--least of all--and
only as a last resource, landed proprietors. The British, for whom
they had often fought because that way honor seemed to lie, had
impoverished them afterward by passing and enforcing zemindary laws
that lifted nine-tenths of the burden from the necks of starving
tenants. The new law was just, as the Rajputs grudgingly admitted, but
it pinched their pockets sadly; like the old-time English squires,
they would give their best blood and their last rack-rent-wrung rupee
for the cause that they believed in, but they resented interference
with the rack-rents! Mahommed Gunga had had influence enough with
these five landlord relations of his to persuade them to come and meet
him in Howrah City to discuss matters; the mere fact that he had
thought it worth his while to leave his own little holding in the north
had satisfied them that he would be well worth listening to--for no
man rode six hundred miles on an empty errand. But they needed
something more than words before they pledged the word that no Rajput
gentleman will ever break.

"Find us a Cunnigan--bring him to us--prove him to us--and if a
blade worth having from end to end of Rajputana is not at his service,
I myself will gut the Hindoo owner of it! That is my given word!" said
Alwa.