The Pindari laughed. "The Sahibs have agents for the changing of
faith, those who wear the black coat of honour; and a _mullah_ will
soon make a good Musselmani of the beautiful little infidel. Of
course, Sahib, there is the other way of having a man's desire which is
the way of all Pindaris; they consider women as fair loot when the
sword is the passport through a land. But as to the Gulab, the flower
is most too fair for a crushing. In such a matter as I have spoken of
the fragrance is gone, and a man, when he crushes the weak, has
conflict with himself."

"It's a topping old barbarian, this leader of cut-throats," Barlow
admitted to himself; but in his mind was a horror of the fate meant for
the girl. And somehow it was a sacrifice for him, he knew, an
enlargement of the love that had shown in the soft brown eyes. As he
listened schemes of stealing the Gulab away, of saving her were
hurtling through his brain.

"And mark thee, Sahib, Amir Khan has found favour with the little
flower, for when I thought of an audience with her in her own tent--for
to be a leader of men, in possession of two wives, and holding strong
by the faith of Mahomet, it is as well to be circumspect--the Gulab
warned me that a knife might be presented as I slept. A jealous lover,
perhaps, I think--it would not have been Ayub Alli by any chance?"

What Barlow was thinking, was, "A most subtle animal, this." And he
now understood why the Pindari, as if he had forgotten the message, was
talking of the Gulab; as an Oriental he was coming to the point in
circles.