Isaacs stood still and sung out a greeting.
"Peace to you, men of Baithopoor!" he shouted. It was the preconcerted
form of address. Instantly the captain turned and looked toward us. Then
he gave some orders in a low voice, and taking his prisoner by the hand
assisted him to rise. There was a scurrying to and fro in the camp. The
men seemed to be collecting, and moving to the edge of the bivouac. Some
began to saddle the horses. The moon was so intensely bright that their
movements were as plain to us as though it had been broad daylight.
Two figures came striding toward us--the captain and Shere Ali. As I
looked at them, curiously enough, as may be imagined, I noticed that the
captain was the taller man by two or three inches, but Shere Ali's broad
chest and slightly-bowed legs produced an impression of enormous
strength. He looked the fierce-hearted, hard-handed warrior, from head
to heel; though in accordance with Isaacs' treaty he had been well taken
care of and was dressed in the finest stuffs, his beard carefully
clipped and his Indian turban rolled with great neatness round his dark
and prominent brows.
The first thing for the captain was to satisfy himself as far as
possible that we had no troops in ambush up there in the jungle on the
base of the mountain.
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