Luckily for him he did not draw a knife.

I hugged the wind out of him, whirled him until he was dizzy and threw him down into his dog's corner by the gate, not much the worse except for a bruise or two.
"Now!" I said.

"Which way went King sahib and the Gray Mahatma ?" "All ways are one, and the one way leads to _her_!" That was all I could get out of him.

So I took the one way, straight down through the courtyards and under the arches, past the old black panther's cage--the way that King and I had taken when we first arrived.
But it seemed like a year since I had trodden those ancient flagstones side by side with King--more than a year! It seemed as if a dozen lifetimes intervened.

And it also occurred to me that I was growing famished and desperately sleepy, and I knew that King must be in even worse condition.