“Night and day Mahatma-ji has been preparing his entire people to stand quiet and hateless; no matter what happens to him,” Nagar went on with a smile. “He tells them that in the event of his imprisonment, or even of his martyrdom, they would only wound his spirit, by answering the shedding of blood with blood----” They talked late. For fully an hour after Nagar left, Dicky sat by the open window, smoking to keep the insects away. Tobacco did not entirely quench the stale tired smell of the town. Even after he put out the light, sleepless hours passed, so it was late in the forenoon when he awoke, hearing cries in the street below. He crossed to the window. “_Hindu Mussultmanki jai!_” a voice cried. This he took to mean a native impulse to promote Hindu and Moslem unity, or something of the sort. Also he heard the cry repeatedly, “_Mahatma Gandhiki jai!_” Also Gandhi’s name associated with the names of “Kitchlew and Satyapal,” native leaders in Amritsar, of whom Nagar had spoken last night. Presently there was a knock at his door. A serious but friendly young Hindu in student’s garb bowed, entered and walked to the center of the room, saying in careful English: “From Nagarjuna I have come to be at the service of Cobden Sahib for the full day.” “Thank you. Is Nagar busy?” The student bowed again and proceeded: “My name is Lala Relu Ram and I am glad to come and make you acquainted with the disposition of the city.” The shouts were raised again outside. “What’s in the air?” Dicky asked. This was too much for Lala Relu Ram. “I mean the shouts below--is this another holiday?” “My people are gravely disturbed. Doctors Kitchlew and Satyapal have been sent for by the Deputy Commissioner Sahib. It is feared for them by my people.” “What have they been doing?” “In the terms of public speech they have cried out--also against the Rowlatt Bills, and for the amity of all peoples in Amritsar, Dr. Kitchlew being a Mohammedan and Dr. Satyapal a Hindu, which is anomalous.” Dicky was still unshaven, and there were some notes he wished to put down. “I’ll be ready to go out with you in an hour or less,” he said. “Would you not like to go down and get a line on what is going on?” The student confessed that he would, but plainly the American idiom “get a line on” fascinated him. He paused to inquire, and Dicky explained. “That is very good,” the student observed. “We are taught that the language of the future is to be made of most flexible symbols. I will get a line upon what is in the air and return.” He was back within a half hour saying that the worst had happened. Doctors Kitchlew and Satyapal had been arrested under the Defense of India Act, ordered to write farewell letters to their families, and been driven out of town, their destination unknown. “My people are gathering to go to the bungalow of the Deputy Commissioner with a _faryad_ (petition) that will remonstrate very firmly,” the Hindu boy said.