The finding of a remount for Juggut Khan was not so troublesome as
might have been supposed. The rumors and plans and whispered orders
for the coming struggle had been passed around the countryside for
months past, and every man who owned a horse had it stalled safely
near him, for use when the hour should come.
There were country-ponies and Arabs and Kathiawaris and Khaubulis
among which to pick, and though the average run of them was worse
than merely bad, and though both best and worst were hidden away
whenever possible, good horses were discoverable. Within an hour,
Bill Brown; with the aid of his men, had routed out a Khaubuji
stallion for Juggut Khan, one fit to carry him against time the whole
of the way to Bholat.
The Rajput mounted him where Brown unearthed him, and watched the
signing of a scribbled-out receipt with a cynical smile.
"If he comes to claim his money for the horse," said Juggut Khan,
"I--even I, who am penniless--will pay him. Good-by, Brown sahib!"
He leaned over and grasped the sergeant by the hand.
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