But I got off my camel and boarded the engine nevertheless.

Ayisha had handed over her mount to Ali Baba and entered the caboose, ignoring the protests of the uniformed conductor who, having not much faith in fortune, did not care whom he offended.

But he might as well have insulted a camel as Ayisha, for all he would have gained by it.
My friend the engine-driver blew the whistle; somebody on the platform tooted a silly little horn; a signal descended in the near distance and we started just as I caught sight of Mujrim coming to take my camel.
Then it occurred to some bright genius that even if they might not loot the train there was no embargo on rejoicing; and there was only one way to do that.

What they saw fit to rejoice about I don't know, but one shot rang in the air, and a second later fifty bullets pierced the dinning iron roof.
That made such a lovely noise and so scared the passengers that they could not resist repeating it, and by the time we had hauled abreast of the distance-signal there was not much of the roof left.
I saw Ali Baba and Mujrim take advantage of the excitement to start back with the camels; and two minutes later about twenty men decided to follow them at a safe distance.

The rest had begun to scatter before the train was out of sight, and I never again saw one of the five gentry who had introduced us to the whole proceedings.
Then my friend the engine-driver found time to be a little curious.
"What'n hell ?" he asked, in the _lingua franca_ that all Indians are supposed to understand.
So I answered him in the mother argot at a venture, and he bit.
"There's a man down the line a piece who'll blow your train to hell," said I, "unless you pull up when he flags you." "Son of a gun, eh ?" "Sure bet!" "Where you learn English ?" "States," said I."You been there too ?" "Sure pop! Goin' back some time." "Not if you don't stop her when you get the hint, you won't.