'Their raj is nearly done,' he said, jerking his thumb in the direction of the bungalow. 'The treasures of the land will now be for its own, and not for the sons and daughters of strangers. But the lotus-eyed has a soft tongue and a noble presence.' He spoke meditatively, almost sadly. 'I know nothing of your politics,' said Hoosanee, indifferently; 'I am a poor man, and I love those who bring me gain.' 'Then come back our way,' said Tikaram, 'and I will keep the lotus-eyed for thee--if she is not by that time food for her masters.' 'Will my brother keep her?' said Hoosanee, his face brightening as if a new idea had struck him. 'I might,' said Tikaram. 'I have a master who is a prince. He would give a lakh of rupees for the two women and the child.' 'A lakh!' said Tikaram, his mouth watering. 'A lakh of rupees if they were given to him unhurt.' 'But three! What can he want with three?' 'Who knows? Great men have their caprices, and if they will pay for them, let the little keep silence! Perhaps he will keep a museum, and show them as curiosities when the English are all swept into the sea. But this is what he said: "Bring me three of these English--a small woman, a large woman, and a child with golden hair. Let them be well nourished, and of fair countenance. I will pay a lakh to thee for thy trouble, and another lakh to the man who helps thee." What does my brother say?' 'I would save the lotus-eyed without money,' said Tikaram, and then he turned away. 'There is time, O brother; they have not risen yet,' he murmured. END OF THE FIRST VOLUME CHAPTER XIX GENERAL ELTON'S MARCH