One of the prince's followers rode close to him--leaned low from the saddle--and leered into his face.
"Knowest not enough to salute thy betters ?" he demanded.
Mahommed Gunga made a movement with his right hand in the direction of his left hip--one that needed no explanation; the other legged his horse away, and rode on, grinning nastily.

To reassure himself of his superiority over everybody but his master, he spun his horse presently so that its rump struck against a tented stall, and upset tent and goods.

Then he spent two full minutes in outrageous execration of the men who struggled underneath the gaudy cloth, before cantering away, looking, feeling, riding like a fearless man again.

Mahommed Gunga sneered after him, and spat, and turned his back on the sunshine and the street.
"I had a mind to teach that Hindoo who his betters are!" he growled.
"Come in, risaldar-sahib!" said a voice persuasively.

"By your own showing the hour is not yet--why spill blood before the hour ?" The Rajput swaggered to the dark door, spurs jingling, looking back across his shoulder once or twice, as though he half-regretted leaving the Hindoo horseman's head upon his shoulders.
"Come in, sahib," advised the voice again.