his left hip--one that needed no explanation; the other legged his
horse away, and rode on, grinning nastily. To reassure himself of his
superiority over everybody but his master, he spun his horse presently
so that its rump struck against a tented stall, and upset tent and
goods. Then he spent two full minutes in outrageous execration of the
men who struggled underneath the gaudy cloth, before cantering away,
looking, feeling, riding like a fearless man again. Mahommed Gunga
sneered after him, and spat, and turned his back on the sunshine and
the street.

"I had a mind to teach that Hindoo who his betters are!" he growled.

"Come in, risaldar-sahib!" said a voice persuasively. "By your own
showing the hour is not yet--why spill blood before the hour?"

The Rajput swaggered to the dark door, spurs jingling, looking back
across his shoulder once or twice, as though he half-regretted leaving
the Hindoo horseman's head upon his shoulders.

"Come in, sahib," advised the voice again. "They be many. We are few.
And, who knows--our roads may lie together yet."

Mahommed Gunga kicked his scabbard clear, and strode through the door.
The shadows inside and the hum of voices swallowed him as though he
were a big, red, black-legged devil reassimilated in the brewing broth
of trouble; but his voice boomed deep and loud after he had
disappeared from view.

"When their road and my road lie together, we will travel all feet
foremost!" he asserted.