At nightfall Desmond learnt from one of the drivers that they were still six miles short of being opposite to Hugli. The patient Bengalis could endure no more; the oxen were done up, the men refused to go further without a rest. Halting at a hamlet some five miles from the river, they rested and fed till midnight, then set off again. It was not so insufferably hot at night, but on the other hand they were less able to avoid obstructions: and the rest had not been long enough to make up for the terrible exertions of the day. By daybreak they were some distance past Hugli, still keeping about five miles from the river. Desmond was beginning to congratulate himself that the worst was over; Barrakpur was only about twelve miles away. But a little after dawn he caught sight of a European on horseback crossing their track towards the river. He was going at a walking pace, attended by two syces.[#] Attracted, apparently, by the sight, unusual at this time of year, of a string of hackeris, he wheeled his horse and cantered towards the tail of the convoy, which was under Bulger’s charge. [#] Grooms. "Eo, hackeriwallah," he said in Urdu to the rearmost driver, "to whom do these hackeris belong?" "To the great Company, huzur. The sahib will tell you." "The sahib!--what sahib?" asked the rider in astonishment. "The sahib yonder," replied the man, pointing to Bulger. Bulger had been staring at the horseman, and growing more and more red in the face. Catching the rider’s surprised look, he could contain himself no longer. "By thunder! ’tis that villain Diggle!" he shouted, and rushed forward to drag him from his horse. But Diggle was not taken unawares. Setting spurs to his steed, he caused it to spring away. Bulger raised his musket, but ere he could fire Diggle was out of range. Keeping a careful distance he rode leisurely along the whole convoy, and a smile of malignant pleasure shone upon his face as he took stock of its contents. Meanwhile Bulger, already repenting of his hasty action, hurried forward to acquaint Desmond with what had happened. Diggle’s smile broadened; he halted and took a long look at the tall figure in native dress to whom Bulger was so excitedly speaking. Then, turning his horse in the direction of the river, he spoke over his shoulder to his syces and galloped away, followed by them at a run. "You were a fool, Bulger," said Desmond testily. "This may lead to no end of trouble." Bulger looked penitent, and wrathful, and overwhelmed. "We must try to hurry," added Desmond to Surendra Nath. "Promise the men more bakshish: don’t stint."