“Thanks, Chandra!” Biff gasped. “If you hadn’t dragged me out of that jam, the Sikh would have known I was a fake – ”
“That wasn’t why!” returned Chandra. “That wouldn’t have bothered us. Maybe you’re a fake, but he’s a bigger one. I saw his beard close enough to know.”
Biff looked back and saw that Chandra was right. Caught in the crowd, the man with the big turban wasn’t trying to follow the three boys; in fact, he couldn’t even see them. The reason was that his false beard had been pulled up over his eyes, and he was madly trying to straighten it.
Hand in his pocket, Biff was gripping the packet that he had transferred from his own clothes, wondering if the Light of the Lama again had saved him from an enemy!
V
Danger at Dawn
Right then, Biff’s one hope was that he and his two companions could lose themselves in another and bigger crowd and thus dodge the disguised stranger who was so intent upon following them.
They couldn’t have chosen a better place than the Howrah Station. It seemed five times bigger than any other railway station Biff had ever seen, and it contained ten times as many people. The afternoon had reached its peak of stifling heat, so they had come in here and sprawled over the acres of cool marble floors in preference to the Calcutta sidewalks.
The boys had to step around prostrate bodies or clamber over them, as did hundreds of other travelers who were thronging the great depot. Practically all of those travelers were natives, and many of them were carrying huge bundles that contained most of their worldly possessions.
Chandra explained that many of Calcutta’s three million citizens were constantly on the move, due to lack of food or jobs; but that as fast as they left town, others poured in to replace them. He added that the population was still shifting between India and Pakistan, which accounted for more travel, particularly since the East Pakistan border was so near Calcutta. He also mentioned that many were pilgrims bound for Benares and other places holy to Hindu cults.
While the boys picked their way through the immense station, Chandra pointed out examples of each group. He also called attention to occasional Europeans and well-dressed Indians, including Hindus of high caste.
“Those few,” declared Chandra, “go first- or second-class. Always, some talk English and ask too much about everybody’s business. I know, because I have gone second-class with Jinnah Jad. So we will go third-class and talk just to each other.”
That satisfied Biff and Kamuka. It wasn’t a matter of saving money, for they had pooled their cash and had more than enough to travel in luxury, with Chandra included. But getting to New Delhi unnoticed was essential, and the train trip, which required more than twenty-four hours, was the sort that promised complications, so the more they avoided, the better.
Chandra had a bright idea on that score, too. Biff gave him enough money to buy three third-class tickets, but when Chandra rejoined the other boys, he returned half the cash.
“I only buy tickets halfway,” he stated, “so nobody will know we are going to New Delhi. They will think maybe we are going to Benares or Allahabad, but instead we will go on to a little village where my uncle lives and start again from there.”
“You’re the boss of this expedition, Chandra,” Biff assured him. “Anything that will cover our trail is a good idea.”
Breaking the trip also seemed a good idea when Biff saw the accommodations that the third-class carriages offered. Biff had been afraid that he might be noticed on the station platform, the way he had been on the bus, but that worry soon was over. The platform was thicker with milling humanity than the station itself. People would have been pushed onto the track, if the train hadn’t been there to receive them.
Many were crowding into first- and second-class compartments, only to be pushed out and ordered back to where they belonged, in third class. Amid the commotion, Chandra found one third-class compartment that looked full, but wasn’t, because the occupants had simply spread their luggage in a haphazard way. Chandra began piling them together like so many bundles of wash, until he had made room for all three boys, including their own luggage.
The seats in the compartment were little better than benches, but Biff gladly drew himself into the deepest and most uncomfortable corner, rather than be observed too closely when members of the train crew closed the doors, for some of them were genuine Sikhs who might have seen through his thin disguise.
The platforms were still crowded when the train pulled out – as many people had come to the station simply to see the others off. Then the train was rolling into the open country, what little Biff could see of it. The rattle of wheels mixed with swirls of dust and blended with the smell of garlic and spices, for everyone was bringing out native food, bowls of rice, bananas, and other fruit. Biff’s appetite was suddenly roused.
“Think of all that rice Jinnah Jad wasted,” Biff said to Kamuka, “when he did that trick! I could eat some of it now.”
“He didn’t waste it,” reminded Kamuka. “He put it in our pockets, remember? We should have kept it.”
“Say, that was a neat trick.” Biff turned to Chandra. “How did Jinnah Jad work that part of it? Or don’t you know?”
Chandra grinned broadly.
“That is one trick I do know,” he declared. “Remember when I went through the crowd, tapping people’s pockets, asking for rupees, like this?” He tapped Biff’s pocket, then Kamuka’s, and they both nodded. “While I do that,” Chandra went on, “I use my other hand to put rice in other pockets. So later, the people find it there.”
“So that was it!” Almost instinctively, Biff thrust his hand in his other pocket, then brought it out in amazement, with a pair of candy bars. Kamuka, reaching into his own pocket, found himself staring at a handful of loose peanuts.
“You must have bought these when you went for the tickets,” said Biff to Chandra, “and then you slipped them into our pockets while you were telling us how you did it! Candy for me – peanuts for Kamuka – ”
“And now you have peanuts, too,” put in Chandra, “in the pocket where you keep the big ruby.”
Again Chandra was right, and Biff’s amazement at the Indian boy’s skill was complete. They ate their chocolate bars and peanuts along with some fruit that Chandra had also brought them. Then, when the other passengers were no longer noticing them, Chandra remarked:
“Remember how the big man with the fake beard got tangled in the crowd, when we were leaving the bus?”
Biff and Kamuka nodded.
“I do that too,” declared Chandra proudly. “I push one person like this” – he nudged Biff forward – “and another like that” – he gave Kamuka a backward push – “and pretty soon all are in each other’s way.”
Biff smiled at that, too; then he turned solemn.
“We’ve been watched,” he declared, “and that’s for sure. So let’s be still more careful from now on.”
At various stops, the train disgorged many passengers who filled up water jars that they had brought along and returned to the train before it started. Biff and Kamuka let Chandra handle that job for their party, rather than show themselves on station platforms.
Occasionally, though, Kamuka waved from the compartment window to fruit sellers who also supplied milk and soft drinks. At such stops, first- and second-class passengers went ahead to the dining car or had attendants bring choice dishes to their compartments; but third-class travelers didn’t rate such service.
It was turning dark when the train reached the great coal fields in western Bengal. That part of the trip interested Biff most, because of the mining activity. But there was little to be seen, and soon, despite the rattle and jouncing of the train and the discomfort of the stuffy corner, Biff began dozing off.
Once,