“Say, Chick!” called out Patsy Garvan, from the boat, in a loud whisper. “What in blazes is a baboo?” “It means ‘gentleman,’” replied Chick quickly. “Shut up, will you?” “If that’s what it means, I don’t believe that guy’s it,” grumbled Patsy. “I thought it was some kind of monkey.” “You have been paid,” was all Jai Singh condescended to reply to the demand of Baboo Punyah. “Go back! We proceed on our way in our own boat.” But Baboo Punyah, having by this time eight or ten natives behind him on whom he believed he could rely at a pinch, was not to be lightly dismissed. “The pay for that boat is much more than I have received. It will be two hundred rupees more or you cannot go!” he shouted, extending both hands impressively. “I wait for the money.” Standing there, his arms folded across his breast, his gold anklets and bracelets, as well as the jewels in his turban and at his breast, glistening in the red light of the dying sun, Baboo Punyah was a dignified figure. He had the attitude of one who would be as immovable from the position he had taken as the great Rock of Trichinoply itself. But it is often insignificant things that take the dignity out of the most determined of men. It was so in this case. Captain, the big bloodhound, had been loaded into the boat, and was lying comfortably in the bottom, with his head between the knees of Patsy Garvan. Whether Patsy whispered in his ear, or perhaps gave him a sly hoist behind will ever remain in doubt. What is certain is that Captain betrayed a sudden interest in Baboo Punyah which made Patsy chuckle silently, but which was not observed by any one else. Getting on his feet, the dog knocked Patsy backward, and contemplated Baboo Punyah as if he were some new production that had never come within his range of vision before, and was somewhat of a puzzle to his canine mind. “Get him, Captain!” whispered Patsy. This was enough for Captain. He had no particular grudge against Baboo Punyah, but he did want to know something more about this loud-talking Hindu. What he did was to jump ashore and carom into the baboo with such violence as to knock him over on his back. Nor was this all. Captain did not want to hurt the man, but his play was too rough to please the dignified native. He aimed a kick at the dog, but missed him. “Look out, Chick!” shouted Patsy, standing up in the boat. “Don’t let him hurt Captain.” It was evident that Baboo Punyah had for the moment forgotten his intention to demand more pay for the boat in his determination to deal with the bloodhound. Nick Carter had been watching the little comedy with a grave smile. He would have interfered to keep the dog away, only that he felt the Hindu deserved some punishment for his bare-faced effort at extortion. But when he saw Baboo Punyah draw a keen dagger from the folds of his white garment, there was no time for more quiet contemplation.