They wore un-English leggings and curious girt-in belts that reminded him hazily of the pictures in a book in St Xavier's library "The Adventures of a Young Naturalist in Mexico" was its name.

Yes, they looked very like the wonderful M.Sumichrast of that tale, and very unlike the 'highly unscrupulous folk' of Hurree Babu's imagining.
The coolies, earth-coloured and mute, crouched reverently some twenty or thirty yards away, and the Babu, the slack of his thin gear snapping like a marking-flag in the chill breeze, stood by with an air of happy proprietorship.
'These are the men,' Hurree whispered, as the ritual went on and the two whites followed the grass-blade sweeping from Hell to Heaven and back again.

'All their books are in the large kilta with the reddish top--books and reports and maps--and I have seen a King's letter that either Hilas or Bunar has written.

They guard it most carefully.

They have sent nothing back from Hilas or Leh.