Who, then, was this chance-met jackanapes, that she should lean on him or look to him for guidance?
The rebellion that had made her disobey her father back in Howrah City--the spirit that had kept her in Howrah City and had given Jaimihr back cool stare for stare--rallied her to resist--to ridicule--to rival Cunningham's pretensions.

He saw her flush beneath his gaze, and turned away to where Mahommed Gunga watched from the parapet.
The leaders of Jaimihr's calvary were arguing.

They could be seen gathered together out of rifle-shot but in full view of Alwa's rock, and from their gestures they seemed to be considering the feasibility of an attack.
But it needed no warrior--it needed less even than ordinary intelligence--to know that as few as forty men could hold that fastness against two thousand.

Eight hundred would have no chance against it.
Even two thousand would need engineers, and ordnance, as well as plans.
Presently half of the little army rode away, back toward Howrah City, and the other half proceeded to bivouac where they could watch the iron-shuttered entrance and cut off the little garrison from all communication or assistance.
"We might as well resume our conference," suggested Alwa, with the courtly air of a man just arisen from a chair.

No one who had not seen him ride would have dreamed that he was fresh from snatching a prisoner at the bottom of a neck-breaking defile.