The man himself, a portly, full-bearded Mohammedan, was examining a growing crop, and his behavior, no less than the furtive looks cast at the newcomers by his driver, warned Malcolm that here, for a certainty, the Mutiny was a known thing. The zemindar's face assumed a bronze-green tint when he saw the European officer, and the sulky-looking native perched behind the shafts of the ekka growled something in the local patois that caused the ryot sitting behind Chumru to squirm uneasily. The other glanced hastily around, as though he hoped to find assistance near, and Chumru muttered to his master: "Have a care, sahib, else we may hop on to a limed twig." The boldest course was the best one. Malcolm rode up to the zemindar, who was separated some forty paces from the ekka. "I come from Lucknow," he said. "What news is there from Fattehpore and Allahabad?" The man hesitated. He was so completely taken aback by the sight of an armed officer riding towards him in broad daylight--for Malcolm having lost his own sword had taken Chumru's--that he was hardly prepared to meet the emergency. "There is little news," he said, at last, and it was not lost on his questioner that the customary phrases of respect were omitted, though he spoke civilly enough. "Nevertheless, what is it?" demanded Frank. "Has the Mutiny spread thus far, or is it confined to Cawnpore?" "I know not what you mean," was the self-contained answer. "In this district we are peaceable people. We look after our crops, even as I am engaged at this moment, and have no concern with what goes on elsewhere." "A most worthy and honorable sentiment, and I trust it will avail you when we have hanged all these rebels and we come to inquire into the conduct of your village. I want you to accompany me now and place my orderly and myself on board a boat for Allahabad." "That is impossible--sahib--" and the words came reluctantly--"there are no boats on the river these days." "Why not?" "They are all away, carrying grain and hay." "What then, are your crops so forward? This one will not be ready for harvesting ere another month." "You will not find a budgerow on this side. Perchance they will ferry you across at the village in a small boat, and you will have better accommodation at Fattehpore." "Are we opposite Fattehpore?" "Yes--sahib." All the while the zemindar's eyes were looking furtively from Frank to the lower ground. It was a puzzling situation. The man was not actively hostile, yet his manner betrayed an undercurrent of fear and dislike that could only be accounted for by the downfall of British power in the locality. Thinking Chumru could deal better with his fellow-countryman, Malcolm called him, breaking in on a lively conversation that was going on between his servant and the ekka-wallah. Chumru, who had told the ryot to dismount, came at once.