"Where have you hidden it?" demanded the chief. "It belongs to the
Sahib."
"Hidden what?"
"The treasure you and the false holy one took from the forbidden cave!"
"False holy one?"
"Ay, wretch! He is Durga Ram, the man who murdered the king of Allaha."
The mutineer laughed and waved his hand toward the smoking ruins of the
promontory.
"Look for it there," he said, "under mountains of rock and dirt and
sand. Look for it there! And who is this white man who says the holy
one is false?"
"I say it, you scoundrel!" cried the colonel, advancing; but Bruce
restrained him, seeing that the situation had taken an unpleasant and
sinister trend.
"Patience, Colonel; just a little diplomacy," he urged.
"But the man lies!"
"That may be, but just at present there seem to be more men standing
back of him than back of our chief here. We have no way of getting a
warning to Ahmed. Wait!"
"Jackal," spoke the chief wrathfully, "thou liest!"
"Ah! thou hast grown too fat with rule."
"Ay!" cried the men back of the mutinous one.
"Sahib," said the chief, without losing any of his natural dignity,
"the man has betrayed me. I see the lust of gold in their eyes. Evil
presage. But you have saved the life of my child and mine, and I will
throw my strength with you."
"Father, can't you see?" asked Kathlyn.
"See what?"
"The inevitable. It was in my heart all the way here that we should
meet with disaster. There is yet time to leave here peacefully."
But her pleading fell upon the ears of a man who was treasure mad. He
would not listen to reason. Ahmed could have told Kathlyn that the old
guru stood back of her father, pushing, pushing.
"He is mad," whispered Bruce, "but we can not leave him."
"What would I do without you, John!"
From down the beach the chief's little girl came toddling to the group
of excited men. She was clutching something in her hand. Her father
took her by the arm and pulled her back of him. Kathlyn put her hand
upon the child's head, protectingly. The child gazed up shyly, opened
her little hand . . . and disclosed a yellow sovereign!
The argument between the chief and his mutinous followers went on.
"John," said Kathlyn, "you speak the dialect. I can understand only a
word here and there. But listen. Tell the chief that all we desire is
to be permitted to depart in peace later," she added significantly.
"What's up?"
"The child has a coin--a British sovereign--in her hand. She knows
where Umballa has secreted the treasure. Since father can not be
budged from his purpose, let us try deceit. You speak to the chief
while I explain to father."