As he reached her stirrup, she reined in and faced him, after a hurried
glance that told her her duenna had failed her. The old woman was
invisible.

"Will you leave that body to lie there in the dust and sun?" she asked
indignantly.

"I am no vulture, or jackal, or hyena, sahiba!" he smiled. "I do not
eat carrion!" He seemed to think that that was a very good retort, for
he showed his wonderful white teeth until his handsome face was the
epitome of self-satisfied amusement. His horse blocked the way again,
and all retreat was cut off, for his escort were behind her, and three
of them had ridden to the right, outside the row of trees, to cut off
possible escape in that direction. "Was it not well that I was near,
sahiba? Would it have been better to die at the hands of a Maharati of
no caste--?"

"Than to see blood spilt--than to be beholden to a murderer?
Infinitely better! There was no need to kill that man--I could have
quieted him. Let me pass, please, Jaimihr-sahib!"

He reined aside; but if she thought that cold scorn or hot anger would
either of them quell his ardor, she had things reversed. The less she
behaved as a native woman would have done--the more she flouted him
--the more enthusiastic he became.

"Sahiba!"--he trotted beside her, his great horse keeping up easily
with her pony's canter--"I have told you oftener than once that I
make a good friend and a bad enemy!"