"And done them, banijara. Was I not among those who shot the fools of Feringhis at the ghat? Wah! One boat that had left the ghat was rowed to the other side--the pigs of English believed they might yet escape. But I was there, with my musket, and I fired, and my shot kindled the thatch that covered the boat, and it burnt with a great blaze. And the boat grounded in the mud, and I ran down and pulled out of it one of the English by the hair of his head, and drove my knife into him many times, and he died, pig that he was--though he did not squeal like a pig; the English, curse them, never squeal." Ahmed's blood was boiling. It was one of his own race whom this braggart menial had killed. He would have liked to end the man's account then and there, but the coolie was at hand, squatting beside the bale of goods. For the sake of his mission he could not afford to give rein to his anger. "It is an honour to meet one who has done such brave deeds," he said. "Thou wert better among the soldiers, surely, than at the door of a house. It is men like thee who are wanted to fight the Feringhis, not those miserable dogs who went out but lately, horse and foot and guns, and returned saying that they had not fought because the air did not agree with them. The king did right to drive them from the city. I will come again, good darwan, at night-time perhaps, when the work is done; far be it from me to interfere with thy important duties, and maybe if I bring some sweetmeats or preserves--delicate things for the palate--thou wilt deign to partake with me, while thou cheerest me with thy pleasant talk." "Gladly will I meet thee," said the darwan, greatly pleased with this flattery. "Never have I seen so excellent a banijara. Salaam!" Ahmed departed with his coolie. When they reached the Chandni Chauk it was instantly apparent that something had happened which stirred public excitement. Crowds were pouring towards the palace, Hindus and Mohammedans together, their faces lit with joy. One man jostled the coolie, and his burden was thrown to the ground. "Pig of a Purbiya!" cried Ahmed, seizing the man--a Pathan could not overlook such an insult--"what meanest thou to damage thus the goods of thy betters?" "How shall I answer?" replied the man. "Knowest thou not that Bakht Khan with his troops is now on the river-bank yonder, and but waits for the repairing of the bridge to cross? And the king has ordered four hundred men to do that work, and I am even now hastening to do his bidding. Overlook my fault for this time, I pray thee."