The next few days Gilbert found himself cast on his own resources, for the condition of the mine was such as to require Frank's uninterrupted attention, and the lad, of course, could be of no use; the mere fact of seeing after him would have been a hindrance. The exploits of Hari Rām still retained their charm for him; he was never tired of talking of him, and he went about with the police officer gathering information as to the man's doings, to the great amusement of the station.
Scarcely a day passed but complaints were brought of robberies committed in the district by Hari Rām's gang. The authorities seemed perfectly incapable of tackling these men. They were utterly fearless, and roved about with impunity. In appearance and dress—if a dhoti[8] can be dignified by that name—they were just like the ordinary native, so it was difficult to identify them....
"Gilbert Lindsay!"
The lad started up in bed, and by the light of the moon saw Jenkins, the police superintendent, standing in the doorway.
"We've had a notice," he said, "and we're off, if you like to come with us."
"Rather!" answered Gilbert.
"Then hurry up," said Jenkins, "there's no time to be lost."
Gilbert needed no second bidding, slipped into his clothes, saying as he passed Frank's door—
"I'm off with Jenkins, Frank."
"Keep out of mischief," called out the elder brother.