Her Hindustani was execrable, but "sahib" and "river" were plain to his understanding.

There was but one sahib by the river, and he was the white hunter who had rescued the vanished queen from the ordeals.

He nodded almost imperceptibly.

Inwardly he smiled.

He was not above giving the haughty upstart a Thuggee's twist.
He spoke to his neighbor quietly, assigned to him his bowls and brushes, rose, and made off.
"Follow me," said Umballa to the happy mahout.