procession drove in upon Barlow's mind the thought that they were
nearing Mandhatta; he realised it with a pang of reluctance. It seemed
but a matter of just minutes since he had lifted Bootea to the saddle.

It had hurried the Gulab's mind, too, for at another turn where the
road slid into the valley, bringing to their nostrils the soft perfume
of _kush-kush_ grass and the savour of _jamun_ that grew luxuriantly on
the banks of the Narbudda, the Gulab asked: "The Sahib will marry the
young Memsahib who is at the city of the Peshwa?"

Barlow was startled. It was like a voice crying out in the night that
shattered a blissful dream.

"Why do you ask that, Gulab?"

"Because it was said. And the Missie Baba's heart will be full of the
Sahib, for he is like a god."

"Is the Gulab jealous of the Missie Baba?" Barlow asked mundanely,
almost out of confusion.

"No, Sahib, because--because one is not jealous of a princess; because
that is to question the ways of the gods. If I had been an Englay and
he loved me, and the Missie Baba claimed him, Bootea would kill her."

This was said with the simple conviction of a child uttering a weird
threat, but Barlow shivered.

"And now, Gulab," he persisted, "if you thought I loved you would you
kill the Missie Baba?"