the air of a man who would like to be assured, but is not, while he
ostentatiously found fault with every single thing on which his eyes
lit.

"One would think that the Risaldar-sahib were afraid of consequences!"
whispered the youngest of his followers, stung to the quick by a quite
unmerited rebuke. "Does he fear that Chota-Cunnigan will beat him?"

White men have been known--often--to do stupider things than that,
and particularly young white men who have not yet learned to gauge
proportions accurately; so there was nothing really ridiculous in the
suggestion. A young white man who has had his temper worked up to the
boiling-point, his nerves deliberately racked, and then has been
subjected to the visit of a driven tiger, may be confidently expected
to exhibit all the faults of which his character is capable.

To make the situation even more ticklish, Cunningham's servant, in his
zeal for his master's comfort, had forgotten to sham sickness, and
instead of limping was in abominably active evidence. He was even
doing more than was expected of him. Ralph Cunningham had said nothing
to him--had not needed to; every single thing that a pampered sahib
could imagine that he needed was done for him in the proper order,
without noise or awkwardness, and the Risaldar cursed as he watched the
clockwork-perfect service. He had hoped for a lapse that might call
forth some pointer, either by way of irritation or amusement, as to how
young Cunningham was taking things.

But not a thing went wrong and not a sign of any sort gave Cunningham.
The youngster did not smile either to himself darkly or at his servant.
He lit his after-breakfast cigar and smoked it peacefully, as though