He was too excited, too inquisitive, too occupied with the necessity for keeping calm in the face of what most surely looked like the beginning of big happenings.

These horsemen of Alwa's rode, and looked, and laughed like soldiers, new-stripped of the hobble ropes of peace, and their very seat in the untanned saddles--tight down, loose-swaying from the hips, and free--was confirmation of Mahommed Gunga's words.
They wheeled in a cloud and led the way, opening a little in the centre to let the clouds of sand their horses kicked up blow to the right and left of Cunningham and his men.

Not a word was spoken--not a question asked or a piece of news exchanged--until the whole party halted at the foot of Alwa's fortress home--a great iron gate in front of them and garden land on either side--watered by the splashing streamlet from the heights above.
"Men of the house of Kachwaha have owned and held this place, sahib, since Allah made it!" whispered Mahommed Gunga.

"Men say that Alwa has no right to it; they lie! His father's father won the dower-right!" He was interrupted by the rising of the iron gate.

It seemed solid, without even an eyehole in it.