The temple door slammed just as Warrington
started after him.
By that time the risaldar had got the horses stopped, and Colonel
Kirby realized what had happened.
"Come back, Warrington!" he ordered peremptorily.
Warrington obeyed, but without enthusiasm.
"I can run faster than that fat brute, sir!" he said. "And I saw him
go into the temple. We won't find Ranjoor Singh now in a month of
Sundays!"
He was trying to wipe the mud from himself with the aid of the loin-cloth.
"Anyhow, I've got the most important part of his costume," he said
vindictively. "Gad, I'd like to get him on the run now through the
public street!"
"Come along in!" commanded Kirby, opening the door. "There has been
trouble enough already without a charge of temple breaking. Tell the
risaldar to drive back to quarters. I'm going to get this musk out of
my hair before dawn!"
Warrington sniffed as he climbed in. The outer night had given him
at least a standard by which to judge things.
"I'd give something to listen to the first man who smells the inside
of this shay!" he said cheerily. "D 'you suppose we can blame it on
the babu, sir?"
"We can try!" said Kirby. "Is that his loin-cloth you've got still?"
"Didn't propose to leave it in the road for him to come and find,
sir! His present shame is about the only consolation prize we get out
of the evening's sport.
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