"No, Miss-sahib. I am no mail-carrier! I brought those letters as a
favor to Franklin-sahib at Peshawur; I was coming hither, and he had
no man to send. I will take letters, since I am now going, if there
are letters ready; I ride to-night."

"Thank you, Mahommed Gunga. I have letters for England. They are not
yet sealed. May I send them to you before you start?"

"I will send my man for them. Also, Miss Maklin-sahib" (heavens! how
much cleaner and better that sounded than the prince's ironical
"sahiba"!)

"If you wish it, I will escort you to Peshawur, or to any city between
here and there."

"But--but why?"

"I saw Jaimihr. I know Jaimihr."

"And--"

"And--this is no place for a padre, or for the daughter of a padre."

What he said was true, but it was also insolent, said insolently.

"Mahommed Gunga-sahib, what are those ribbons on your breast?" she
asked him.

He glanced down at them, and his expression changed a trifle; it was
scarcely perceptible, but underneath his fierce mustache the muscles of