"You are no doubt preparing to start for Madras?" he asked,
controlling his voice with a strong effort.
"Certainly. There is nothing more to be done here."
"Let me tell you that you are not likely to leave Marut alive."
Travers laughed.
"Nonsense, my dear Captain! I am not to be frightened with nursery
tales."
"It is not a nursery tale. I give you my word of honor that before
nightfall we shall be overwhelmed by a force a hundred times larger
than anything we can bring on the field for weeks to come."
Travers shifted his position carelessly. Stafford had not succeeded in
frightening him. He did not believe in native rebellions. What he had
seen of the Hindu character convinced him of its fundamental
cowardice and incapability for independent action.
"A few blank cartridges will bring the Rajah very quickly to his
senses," he assured Stafford, with perfect good-humor. "We have
nothing to be afraid of in that quarter."
"You really think that?" Stafford demanded significantly. "Knowing
what you know, you think we have no cause to fear him?"
Travers changed color. The uneasy flicker in his eyes returned.
"What on earth do you mean?"
"You know very well. You know whom we shall be fighting against."
"Of course--a headlong, inexperienced Hindu prince--"
"You are choosing to have a very short memory. Nehal Singh is more
than that."
Travers stood upright. The healthy glow had died out of his cheeks.
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