"Well, I'd like to see him before a magistrate," said Macgregor, "hear him sentenced to a good term of imprisonment, and sent to the Andaman Islands; that's the only way we shall be rid of him and his whole gang; they would never hold together without him."
They were not long reaching Pokharia, and rode straight to the missionary's house.
"You are too late," said Mr. M'Call. "The rascals have got off again. The robbery took place early last evening just after sunset. Pooran was the man robbed. He happened to be out, and when he came back he found his house regularly looted. I sent a runner straight off to Damūdá for the police, but this delay has given the Dacoits time to betake themselves to the hills or the jungle."
"Well, I propose we telegraph straight to head-quarters," said Macgregor. "I'm quite willing myself to ride to the first telegraphic station to send the message. Something must be done without delay."
Two or three of the principal natives of the village dropped in—one man who owned several carts, and who did a large business in raw cocoons, complained bitterly of the difficulty of transport. "The natives are half-hearted," he said. "Hari Rām is so open-handed amongst the poor that they think there is more to be lost than gained if he were apprehended. We, the mahajans, are obedient servants to Government, therefore Government ought to protect us."
"Of course it ought," said Macgregor; "but it's no use sending a couple of men; we must have a score, and that soon. I think the fact of the agent being injured in this last fray will have some effect. I'm willing to take the responsibility myself and ride at once to the telegraphic station if some of you will accompany me. I hardly think it safe for me to go alone."
"We will go with you, only don't let the servants hear," said Pooran. "They make a perfect idol of Hari Rām; he has spies all over the place."
The heat was too great to think of starting before evening, so they remained at the mission station. Then Mr. Macgregor, accompanied by two native merchants and their servants, set out. Gilbert with the missionary, who was also somewhat of a doctor, went to Macgregor's place to see after the wounded man. As they approached the house they saw an Indian woman crossing the compound, carrying a child on her hip. The missionary turned and looked at her.
"I know that woman," he said; "she was at Pokharia last week."