"Read, and quickly," was the imperious order. "I have affairs at Fattehpore and cannot wait here long. Is there a boat to be hired?" "A budgerow is even now approaching, leader of the faithful." "Good. There is some disposition to be made of two Feringhi women. Read that which Hossein Beg hath written, and make haste, I pray thee, brother." Perhaps Mohammed Rasul wondered why his employer wrote in such imploring strain that he was to obey the worshipful "Ali Khan's" slightest word, and bestow him and his belongings, together with the two prisoners, on board a boat for Fattehpore with the utmost speed. However that may be, he lost no time. The budgerow was warped close to the ghât, her contents, mostly European furniture, as Malcolm could see through a fold in the curtain, were promptly unloaded, and preparations made for the return journey. First, the horses were led on board and secured. Then two pallid girls, only half clothed, their eyes red with weeping and their cheeks haggard with misery, were led from the go-down. "Ali Khan" was about to guide the ekka along the rough gangway when Mohammed Rasul interfered. "My master says naught concerning the ekka and pony," said he. "He hath detained Gopi, and this driver is unknown to me. Who will bring them back when they have served your needs, sirdar?" "I will attend to that," replied Chumru, gruffly, and Hossein Beg's factotum had perforce to be content with the undertaking. But fate, which had certainly favored Malcolm and his native comrade thus far, played them what looked like a jade's trick at the very moment when success was within their grasp. The ekka pony, frightened by the lap of the swift-flowing water against the steps beneath, shied, backed, and strove to reach the shore. Not all Chumru's wiry strength, aided by the alarmed ryot, could prevent the brute from turning. A wheel slipped off the staging, the narrow vehicle toppled over, and the amazed spectators saw a booted and spurred British officer of cavalry sprawling on the ghât instead of the veiled Mohammedan woman who ought to have made her appearance in this undignified manner. Malcolm was on his feet in a second. "Come on, Chumru!" he cried, as he leaped on board the budgerow. He saw one of the crew take an extra turn of a rope round a cat-head, and fired at him. Hit or miss, the fellow tumbled overboard, and his mates followed. Chumru, assisted by the ryot, who elected at this twelfth hour to throw in his lot with that of the sahib, began to cast off the cables. Even the two dazed girls helped, once they knew that an Englishman was fighting in their behalf. To add to the excitement on shore Malcolm fired the second pistol at the men nearest to the boat, which was already beginning to slip away with the current. Then he rushed to the helm, unlashed it, and turned the boat's head toward the channel, while Chumru and the ryot, helped by the girls, hauled at the heavy mat sail.