The owl he has eyes that are big for his size, And the night like a book he deciphers; "Too-woop!" he asserts, and "Hoo-woo-ip!" he cries, And he means to remark he is awfully wise; But he lags behind us, who are "on" to the lies Of the hairy Himalayan knifers!
For eyes we be, of Empire, we, Skinned and puckered and quick to see, And nobody guesses how wise we be, Nor hidden in what disguise we be, A-cooking a sudden surprise we be For hairy Himahlyan knifers!
After a time King urged his horse to a jog-trot, and the five Hillmenpattered in his wake, huddled so close together that the horse couldeasily have kicked more than one of them. The night was cold enough tomake flesh creep; but it was imagination that herded them until theytouched the horse's rump and kept the whites of their eyes ever showingas they glanced to left and right. The Khyber, fouled by memory, lookslike the very birthplace of the ghosts when the moon is fitful and amist begins to flow.
"Cheloh!" King called merrily enough; but his horse shied at nothing,because horses have an uncanny way of knowing how their riders reallyfeel. They led mules and the spare horse, instead of dragging at theirbridles, pressed forward to have their heads among the men, and everyonce and again there would sound the dull thump of a fist on a beast'snose--such being the attitude of men toward the lesser beasts.
They trotted forward until the bed of the Khyber began to grow verynarrow, and Ali Masjid Fort could not be much more than a mile away, atthe widest guess. Then King drew rein and dismounted, for he would havebeen challenged had he ridden much farther. A challenge in the Khyberafter dark consists invariably of a volley at short range, with the merewords afterward, and the wise man takes precaution.
"Off with the mules' packs!" he ordered, and the men stood round andstared. Darya Khan, leaning on the only rifle in the party, grinned likea post-office letter box.
"Truly," growled Ismail, forgetting past expression of a differentopinion, "this man is as mad as all the other Englishmen."
"Were you ever bitten by one?" wondered King aloud.
"God forbid!"
"Then, off with the packs--and hurry!"
Ismail began to obey.
"Thou! Lord of the Rivers! (For that is what Darya Khan means.) What isthy calling?"
"Badragga" (guide), he answered. "Did she not send me back down the Passto be a guide?"
"And before that what wast thou?"
"Is that thy business?" he snarled, shifting his rifle-barrel to theother hand. "I am what she says I am! She used to call me 'Chikki'--theLifter!--and I was! There are those who were made to know it! If shesays now I am badragga, shall any say she lies?"
"I say thou art unpacker of mules' burdens!" answered King. "Begin!"
For answer the fellow grinned from ear to ear and thrust therifle-barrel forward insolently. King, with the movement ofdetermination that a man makes when about to force conclusions, drew uphis sleeves above the wrist. At that instant the moon shone through themist and the gold bracelet glittered in the moonlight.
"May God be with thee!" said "Lord of the Rivers" at once. And withoutanother word he laid down his rifle and went to help off-load the mules.
King stepped aside and cursed softly. To a man who knows how to enforcehis own authority, it is worse than galling to be obeyed because hewears a woman's favor. But for a vein of wisdom that underlay his pridehe would have pocketed the bracelet there and then and have refused towear it again. But as he sweated his pride he overheard Ismail growl:
"Good for thee! He had taught thee obedience in another bat of the eye!"
"I obey her!" muttered Darya Khan.
"I, too," said Ishmail. "So shall he before the week dies! But now it isgood to obey him. He is an ugly man to disobey!"
"I obey him until she sets me free, then," grumbled Darya Khan.
"Better for thee!" said Ismail.
The packs were laid on the ground, and the mules shook themselves, whilethe jackals that haunt the Khyber came closer, to sit in a ring andwatch. King dug a flashlight out of one of the packs, gave it to Ismailto hold, sat on the other pack and began to write on a memorandum pad.It was a minute before he could persuade Ismail that the flashlight washarmless, and another minute before he could get him to hold it still.Then, however, he wrote swiftly.
"In the Khyber, a mile below you.
"Dear Old Man--I would like to run in and see you, but circumstances don't permit. Several people sent you their regards by me. Herewith go two mules and their packs. Make any use of the mules you like, but store the loads where I can draw on them in case of need. I would like to have a talk with you before taking the rather desperate step I intend, but I don't want to be seen entering or leaving Ali Masjid. Can you come down the Pass without making your intention known? It is growing misty now. It ought to be easy. My men will tell you where I am and show you the way. Why not destroy this letter?
"Athelstan."
He folded the note and stuck a postage stamp on it in lieu of seal. Thenhe examined the packs with the aid of the flashlight, sorted them andordered two of the mules reloaded.
"You three!" he ordered then. "Take the loaded mules into Ali MasjidFort. Take this chit, you. Give it to the sahib in command there."
They stood and gaped at him, wide-eyed--then I came closer to see hiseyes and to catch any whisper that Ismail might have for them. ButIsmail and Darya Khan seemed full of having been chosen to stay behind;they offered no suggestions--certainly no encouragement to mutiny.
"To hear is to obey!" said the nearest man, seizing the note, for at allevents that was the easiest task. His action decided the other two. Theytook the mules' leading-reins and followed him. Before they had goneten paces they were all swallowed in the mist that had begun to flowsoutheastward; it closed on them like a blanket, and in a minute morethe clink of shod hooves had ceased. The night grew still, except forthe whimpering of jackals. Ismail came nearer and squatted at King'sfeet.
"Why, sahib?" he asked: and Darya Khan came closer, too. King had tiedthe reins of the two horses and the one remaining mule together in aknot and was sitting on the pack.
"Why not?" he countered.
Solemn, almost motionless, squatted on their hunkers, they looked liketwo great vultures watching an animal die.
"What have they done that they should be sent away?" asked Ismail. "Whathave they done that they should be sent to the fort, where the arrficerwill put them in irons?"
"Why should he put them in irons?" asked King.
"Why not? Here in the Khyber there is often a price on men's heads!"
"And not in Delhi?"
"In Delhi these were not known. There were no witnesses in Delhi. In thefort at Ali Masjid there will be a dozen ready to swear to them!"
"Then, why did they obey?" asked King.
"What is that on the sahib's wrist?"
"You mean--?"
"Sahib--if she said, 'Walk into the fire or over that Cliff!' there bemany in these 'Hills' who would obey without murmuring!"
"I have nothing against them," said King. "As long as they are my men Iwill not send them into a trap."
"Good!" nodded Ismail and Darya Khan together, but they did not seemreally satisfied.
"It is good," said Ismail, "that she should have nothing against thee,sahib! Those three men are in thy keeping!"
"And I in thine?" King asked, but neither man answered him.
They sat in silence for five minutes. Then suddenly the two Hillmenshuddered, although King did not bat an eyelid. Din burst into being. Avolley ripped out of the night and thundered down the Pass.
"How-utt! Hukkums dar?" came the insolent challenge half a minute afterit--the proof positive that Ali Masjid's guards neither slept nor wereafraid.
A weird wail answered the challenge, and there began a tossing to andfro of words, that was prelude to a shouted invitation:
"
Ud-vance-frrrennen-orsss-werrul!"
English can be as weirdly distorted as wire, or any other supple medium,and native levies advance distortion to the point of art; but thelanguage sounds no less good in the chilly gloom of a Khyber night.
Followed another wait, this time of half an hour. Then a man'sfootsteps--a booted, leather-heeled man, striding carelessly. Not farbehind him was the softer noise of sandals. The man began to whistleAnnie Laurie.
"Charles? That you?" called King.
"That you, old man?"
A man in khaki stepped into the moonlight. He was so nearly the image ofAthelstan King that Ismail and Darya Khan stood up and stared. Athelstanstrode to meet him. Their walk was the same. Angle for angle, linefor line, they might have been one man and his shadow, except forthree-quarters of an inch of stature.
"Glad to see you, old man," said Athelstan.
"Sure, old chap!" said Charles; and they shook hands.
"What's the desperate proposal?" asked the younger.
"I'll tell you when we are alone."
His brother nodded and stood a step aside. The three who had taken thenote to the fort came closer--partly to call attention to themselves,partly to claim credit, partly because the outer silence frightenedthem. They elbowed Ismail and Darya Khan, and one of them received asavage blow in the stomach by way of retort from Ismail. Before thatspark could start an explosion Athelstan interfered.
"Ismail! Take two men. Go down the Pass out of car-shot, and keep watch!Come back when I whistle thus--but no sooner!"
He put fingers between his teeth and blew until the night shrilled backat him. Ismail seized the leather bag and started to obey.
"Leave that bag. Leave it, I say!"
"But some man may steal it, sahib. How shall a thief know there is nomoney in it?"
"Leave it and go!"
Ismail departed, grumbling, and King turned on Darya Khan.
"Take the remaining man, and go up the Pass!" he ordered. "Stand out ofear-shot and keep watch. Come when I whistle!"
"But this one has a belly ache where Ismail smote him! Can a man witha belly ache stand guard? His moaning will betray both him and me!"objected "Lord of the Rivers."
"Take him and go!" commanded King.
"But--"
King was careful now not to show his bracelet.
But there was something in his eye and in his attitude--a subtlesuggestive something-or-other about him--that was rather more convincingthan a pistol or a stick. Darya Khan thrust his rifle-end into the hurtman's stomach for encouragement and started off into the mist.
"Come and ache out of the sahibs' sight!" he snarled.
In a minute King and his brother stood unseen, unheard in the shadow bya patch of silver moonlight. Athelstan sat down on the mule's pack.
"Well?" said the younger. "Tell me. I shall have to hurry. You see I'min charge back there. They saw me come out, but I hope to teach 'em alesson going back."
Athelstan nodded. "Good!" he said. "I've a roving commission. I'mordered to enter Khinjan Caves."
His brother whistled. "Tall order! What's your plan?"
"Haven't one--yet. Know more when I'm nearer Khinjan. You can help noend."
"How? Name it!"
"I shall go up in disguise. Nobody can put the stain on as well as you.But tell me something first. Any news of a holy war yet?"
His brother nodded. "Plenty of talk about one to come," he said. "Wekeep hearing of that lashkar that we can't locate, under a mullah whosename seems to change with the day of the week. And there are everlastingtales about the 'Heart of the Hills."'
"No explanation of 'em?" Athelstan asked him.
"None! Not a thing!"
"D'you know of Yasmini?"
"Heard of her of course," said his brother.
"Has she come up the Pass?"
His brother laughed. "No, neither she nor a coach and four."
"I have heard the contrary," said Athelstan.
"Heard what, exactly?"
"She's up the Pass ahead of me."
"She hasn't passed Ali Masjid!" said his brother, and Athelstan nodded.
"Are the Turks in the show yet?" asked Charles.
"Not yet. But I know they're expected in."
"You bet they're expected in!" The younger man grinned from ear to ear."They're working both tides under to prepare the tribes for it. Theyflatter themselves they can set alight a holy war that will put TimourIlang to shame. You should hear my jezailchies talk at night when theythink I'm not listening!"
"The jezailchies'll stand though," said Athelstan.
"Stake my life on it!" said his brother. "They'll stick to the lastman!"
"I can't tell you," said Athelstan, "why we're not attacking brotherTurk before he's ready. I imagine Whitehall has its hands full. But it'slikely enough that the Turk will throw in his lot with the Prussians theminute he's ready to begin. Meanwhile my job is to help make the holywar seem unprofitable to the tribes, so that they'll let the Turk downhard when he calls on 'em. Every day that I can point to forts heldstrongly in the Khyber is a day in my favor. There are sure to be raids.In fact, the more the merrier, provided they're spasmodic. We must keep'em separated--keep 'em from swarming too fast--while I sow other seedsamong 'em."
His brother nodded. Sowing seeds was almost that family's hereditaryjob. Athelstan continued:
"Hang on to Ali Masjid like a leech, old man! The day one raidinglashkar gets command of the Khyber's throat, the others'll all believethey've won the game. Nothing'll stop 'em then! Look out for traps.Smash 'em on sight. But don't follow up too far!"
"Sure," said Charles.
"Help me with the stain now, will you?"
With his flash-light burning as if its battery provided current by theweek instead of by the minute, Athelstan dragged open the mule's packand produced a host of things. He propped a mirror against the pack andsquatted in front of it. Then he passed a little bottle to his brother,and Charles attended to the chin-strap mark that would have betrayed hima British officer in any light brighter than dusk. In a few minutes hiswhole face was darkened to one hue, and Charles stepped back to look atit.
"Won't need to wash yourself for a month!" he said. "The dirt won'tshow!" He sniffed at the bottle. "But that stain won't come off if youdo wash--never worry! You'll do finely."
"Not yet, I won't!" said Athelstan, picking up a little safety razor andbeginning on his mustache. In a minute he had his upper lip bare. Thenhis brother bent over him and rubbed in stain where the scrubby mustachehad been.
After that Athelstan unlocked the leather bag that had caused Ismail somuch concern and shook out from it a pile of odds and ends at whichhis brother nodded with perfect understanding. The principal item wasa piece of silk--forty or fifty yards of it--that he proceeded tobind into a turban on his head, his brother lending him a guiding,understanding finger at every other turn. When that was done, the manwho had said he looked in the least like a British officer would havelied.
One after another he drew on native garments, picking them from the pilebeside him. So, by rapid stages he developed into a native hakim--bycreed a converted Hindu, like Rewa Gunga,--one of the men who practiseyunani, or modern medicine, without a license and with a very great dealof added superstition, trickery and guesswork.
"I wouldn't trust you with a ha'penny!" announced his brother when hehad done.
"Really? As good as all that?"
"The part to a T."
"Well--take these into the fort for me, will you?" His brother caughtthe bundle of discarded European clothes and tucked them under his arm."Now, re-member, old man! This is the biggest show there has ever been!We've got to hold the Khyber, and we can't do it by riding pell-mellinto the first trap set for us! We must smash when the fightingstarts--but we mayn't miss! We mayn't run past the mark! Be a coward,if that's the name you care to give it. You needn't tell me you've gotorders to hunt skirmishers to a standstill, because I know better. Iknow you've just had your wig pulled
for laming two horses!"
"How d'you know that?"
"Never mind! I've been seconded to your crowd. I'm your senior, and I'mgiving you orders. This show isn't sport, but the real red thing, andI want to count on you to fight like a trained man, not like anatural-born fool. I want to know you're holding Ali Masjid like Fabiusheld Rome, by being slow and wily, just for the sake of the comfortablefeeling it will give me when I'm alone among the 'Hills.' Hit hard whenyou have to, but for God's sake, old man, ware traps!"
"All right," said his brother.
"Then good-by, old man!"
"Good-by, Athelstan!"
They stood facing and shook hands. Where had been a man and hisreflection in the mist, there now seemed to be the same man and anative. Athelstan King had changed his very nature with his clothes.He stood like a native--moved like one; even his voice was changed, asif--like the actor who dyed himself all over to act Othello--he could donothing by halves.
"I'm going to try to get in without my men seeing me!" said the younger.
"If they do see you, they'll shoot!"
"Yes, and miss! Trust a Khyber jezailchi not to hit much in the dark!It'll do 'em good either way. I'll have time to give 'em the passwordbefore they fire a second volley. They're not really dangerous till thethird one. Good-by!"
"By, Charles!"
Officers in that force are not chosen for their clumsiness, or inabilityto move silently by night. His foot-steps died in the mist almost asquickly as his shadow. Before he had been gone a minute the Pass wassilent as death again, and though Athelstan listened with trained ears,the only sound he could detect was of a jackal cracking a bone fifty orsixty yards away.
He repacked the loads, putting everything back carefully into the bigleather envelopes and locking the empty hand-bag, after throwing in afew stones for Ismail's benefit. Then he went to sit in the moonlight,with his back to a great rock and waited there cross-legged to give hisbrother time to make good a retreat through the mist. When there wasno more doubt that his own men, at all events, had failed to detect thelieutenant, he put two fingers in his mouth and whistled.
Almost at once he heard sandals come pattering from both directions. Asthey emerged out of the mist he sat silent and still. It was Darya Khanwho came first and stood gaping at him, but Ismail was a very closesecond, and the other three were only a little behind. For full twominutes after the man with the sore stomach had come they all stoodholding one another's arms, astonished. Then--
"Where is he?" asked Ismail.
"Who?" said King, the hakim.
"Our sahib--King sahib--where is he?"
"Gone!"
Even his voice was so completely changed that men who had been rearedamid mutual suspicion could not recognize it.
"But there are his loads! There is his mule!"
"Here is his bag!" said Ismail, pouncing on it, picking it up andshaking it. "It rattles not as formerly! There is more in it than therewas!"
"His two horses and the mule are here," said Darya Khan.
"Did I say he took them with him?" asked the hakim, who sat still withhis back to a rock. "He went because I came! He left me here in charge!Should he not leave the wherewithal to make me comfortable, since I mustdo his work? Hah! What do I see? A man bent nearly double? That means abelly ache! Who should have a belly ache when I have potions, lotions,balms to heal all ills, magic charms and talismans, big and littlepills--and at such a little price! So small a price! Show me the bellyand pay your money! Forget not the money, for nothing is free exceptair, water and the Word of God! I have paid money for water before now,and where is the mullah who will not take a fee? Nay, only air costsnothing! For a rupee, then--for one rupee I will heal the sore belly andforget to be ashamed for taking such a little fee!"
"Whither went the sahib? Nay--show us proof!" objected Darya Khan; andIsmail stood back a pace to scratch his flowing beard and think.
"The sahib left this with me!" said King, and held up his wrist. Thegold bracelet Rewa Gunga had given him gleamed in the pale moonlight.
"May God be with thee!" boomed all five men together.
King jumped to his feet so suddenly that all five gave way in front ofhim, and Darya Khan brought his rifle to the port.
"Hast thou never seen me before?" he demanded, seizing Ismail by theshoulders and staring straight into his eyes.
"Nay, I never saw thee!"
"Look again!"
He turned his head, to show his face in profile.
"Nay, I never saw thee!"
"Thou, then! Thou with the belly! Thou! Thou!"
They all denied ever having seen him.
So he stepped back until the moon shone full in his face and pulled offhis turban, changing his expression at the same time.
"Now look!"
"Ma'uzbillah! (May God protect us!)"
"Now ye know me?"
"Hee-yee-yee!" yelled Ismail, hugging himself by the elbows andbeginning to dance from side to side. "Hee-yee-yee! What said I? SaidI not so? Said I not this is a different man? Said I not this is agood one--a man of unexpected things? Said I not there was magic in theleather bag? I shook it often, and the magic grew! Hee-yee-yee! Look athim! See such cunning! Feel him! Smell of him! He is a good one--good!"
Three of the others stood and grinned, now that their first shock ofsurprise had died away. The fourth man poked among the packs. There waslittle to see except gleaming teeth and the whites of eyes, set in hairyfaces in the mist. But Ismail danced all by himself among the stones ofKhyber road and he looked like a bearded ghoul out for an airing.
"Hee-yee-yee! She smelt out a good one! Hee-yee-yee! This is a man aftermy heart! Hee-yee-yee! God preserve me! God preserve me to see the endof this! This one will show sport! Oh-yee-yee-yee!"
Suddenly be closed with King and hugged him until the stout ribs crackedand bent inward and King sobbed for breath among the strands of theAfridi's beard. He had to use knuckles and knees and feet to winfreedom, and though he used them with all his might and hurt the oldsavage fiercely, he made no impression on his good will.
"After my own heart, thou art! Spirit of a cunning one! Worker ofspells! Allah! That was a good day when she bade me wait for thee!"
King sat down again, panting. He wanted time to get his breath back anda little of the ache out of his ribs, but he did not care to waste anymore minutes, and his eyes watched the faces of the other four men. Hesaw them slowly waken to understanding of what Ismail meant by "workerof spells" and "magic in the bag" and knew that he had even greater holdon them now than Yasmini's bracelet gave him.
"Ma'uzbillah!" they murmured as Ismail's meaning dawned and theyrecognized a magician in their midst. "May God protect us!"
"May God protect me! I have need of it!" said King. "What shall my newname be? Give ye me a name!"
"Nay, choose thou!" urged Ismail, drawing nearer. "We have seen onemiracle; now let us hear another!"
"Very well. Khan is a title of respect. Since I wish for respect, Iwill call myself Khan. Name me a village the first name you can thinkof--quick!"
"Kurram," said Ismail, at a hazard.
"Kurram is good. Kurram I am! Kurram Khan is my name henceforward!Kurram Khan the dakitar!"
"But where is the sahib who came from the fort to talk?" asked the manwhose stomach ached yet from Ismail and Darya Khan's attentions to it.
"Gone!" announced King. "He went with the other one!"
"Went whither? Did any see him go?"
"Is that thy affair?" asked King, and the man collapsed. It is notconsidered wise to the north of Jamrud to argue with a wizard, or evenwith a man who only claims to be one. This was a man who had changed hisvery nature almost under their eyes.
"Even his other clothes have gone!" murmured one man, he who had pokedabout among the packs.
"And now, Ismail, Darya Khan, ye two dunder-heads!--ye bellies withoutbrains!--when was there ever a dakitar--a hakim, who had not twoassistants at the least? Have ye never seen, ye blinder-th
an-bats--howone man holds a patient while his boils are lanced, and yet anothermakes the hot iron ready?"
"Aye! Aye!"
They had both seen that often.
"Then, what are ye?"
They gaped at him. Were they to work wonders too? Were they to be partand parcel of the miracle? Watching them, King saw understanding dawnbehind Ismail's eyes and knew he was winning more than a mere admirer.He knew it might be days yet, might be weeks before the truth was out,but it seemed to him that Ismail was at heart his friend. And there areno friendships stronger than those formed in the Khyber and beyond--nomore loyal partnerships. The "Hills" are the home of contrasts,of blood-feuds that last until the last-but-one man dies, and offriendships that no crime or need or slander can efface. If the feudsare to be avoided like the devil, the friendships are worth having.
"There is another thing ye might do," he suggested, "if ye two grown menare afraid to see a boil slit open. Always there are timid patients whohang back and refuse to drink the medicines. There should be one or twoamong the crowd who will come forward and swallow the draughts eagerly,in proof that no harm results. Be ye two they!"
Ismail spat savagely.
"Nay! Bismillah! Nay, nay! I will hold them who have boils, sittingfirmly on their bellies--so--or between their shoulders--thus--whenthe boils are behind! Nay, I will drink no draughts! I am a man, not acess-pool!"
"And I will study how to heat hot irons!" said Darya Khan, with grimconviction. "It is likely that, having worked for a blacksmith once, Imay learn quickly! Phaughghgh! I have tasted physic! I have drunk ApsinSaats! (Epsom Salts.)"
He spat, too, in a very fury of reminiscence.
"Good!" said King. "Henceforward, then, I am Kurram Khan, the dakitar,and ye two are my assistants, Ismail to hold the men with boils, andDarya Khan to heat the irons--both of ye to be my men and support mewith words when need be!"
"Aye!" said Ismail, quick to think of details, "and these others shallbe the tasters! They have big bellies, that will hold many potionswithout crowding. Let them swallow a little of each medicine in thechest now, for the sake of practise! Let them learn not to make a wryface when the taste of cess-pools rests on the tongue--"
"Aye, and the breath comes sobbing through the nose!" said Darya Khan,remembering fragments of an adventurous career. "Let them learn to drinkApsin Saats without coughing!"
"We will not drink the medicines!" announced the man who had a stomachache. "Nay, nay!"
But Ismail hit him with the back of his hand in the stomach again anddanced away, hugging himself and shouting "Hee-yee-yee!" until thejackals joined him in discontented chorus and the Khyber Pass becamefull of weird howling. Then suddenly the old Afridi thought of somethingelse and came back to thrust his face close to King's.
"Why be a Rangar? Why be a Rajput, sahib? She loves us Hillmen better!"
"Do I look like a Hillman of the 'Hills'?" asked King.
"Nay, not now. But he who can work one miracle can work another. Changethy skin once more and be a true Hillman!"
"Aye!" King laughed. "And fall heir to a blood-feud with every secondman I chance upon! A Hill-man is cousin to a hundred others, and whatsay they in the 'Hills'?--'to hate like cousins,' eh? All cousins areat war. As a Rangar I have left my cousins down in India. Better bea converted Hindu and be despised by some than have cousins in the'Hills'! Besides--do I speak like a Hillman?"
"Aye! Never an Afridi spake his own tongue better!"
"Yet--does a Hillman slip? Would a Hillman use Punjabi words in acareless moment?"'
"God forbid!"
"Therefore, thou dunderhead, I will be a Rangar Rajput,--a stranger ina strange land, traveling by her favor to visit her in Khinjan!Thus, should I happen to make mistakes in speech or action, it may beoverlooked, and each man will unwittingly be my advocate, explainingaway my errors to himself and others instead of my enemy denouncing meto all and sundry! Is that clear, thou oaf?"
"Aye! Thou art more cunning than any man I ever met!"
The great Afridi began to rub the tips of his fingers through hisstraggly beard in a way that might mean anything, and King seemed todraw considerable satisfaction from it, as if it were a sign languagethat he understood. More than any one thing in the world just thenhe needed a friend, and he certainly did not propose to refuse such auseful one.
"And," he added, as if it were an afterthought, instead of his chiefreason, "if her special man Rewa Gunga is a Rangar, and is known as aRangar through out the 'Hills,' shall I not the more likely win favorby being a Rangar too? If I wear her bracelet and at the same time am aRangar, who will not trust me?"
"True! Thou art a magician!"
"True!" agreed Ismail.
But the moon was getting low and Khyber would be dark again in half anhour, for the great crags in the distance to either hand shut off morelight than do the Khyber walls. The mist, too, was growing thicker. Itwas time to make a move.
King rose. "Pack the mule and bring my horse!" he ordered and theyhurried to obey with alacrity born of new respect, Darya Khan attendingto the trimming of the mule's load in person instead of snarling atanother man. It was a very different little escort from the one thathad come thus far. Like King himself, it had changed its very nature infifteen minutes!
They brought the horse, and King laughed at them, calling theidiots--men without eyes.
"The saddle?" Ismail suggested. "It is a government arrficer's saddle."
"Stolen!" said King, and they nodded. "Stolen along with the horse!"
"Then the bridle?"
"Stolen too, ye men without eyes! Ye insects! A Stolen horse and saddleand bridle, are they not a passport of gentility this side of theborder?"
"Aye!"
"I am Kurram Khan, the dakitar, but who in the 'Hills' would believe it?Look now--look ye and tell me what is wrong?"
He pointed to the horse, and they stood in a row and stared.
"Shorten those stirrups, then, six holes at the least! Men will laugh atme if I ride like a British arrficer!"
"Aye!" said Ismail, hurrying to obey.
"Aye! Aye! Aye!" agreed the others.
"Now," he said, gathering the reins and swinging into the saddle, "whoknows the way to Khinjan?"
"Which of us does not!"
"Ye all know it? Then ye all are border thieves and worse! No honest manknows that road! Lead on, Darya Khan, thou Lord of Rivers! Do thy dutyas badragga and beware lest we get our knees wet at the fords! Ismail,you march next. Now I. You other two and the mule follow me. Let the manwith the belly ache ride last on the other horse. So! Forward march!"
So Darya Khan led the way with his rifle, and King's face glowed incigarette light not very far behind him as he legged his horse up thenarrow track that led northward out of the Khyber bed.
It would be a long time before he would dare smoke a cigar again, andhis supply of cigarettes was destined to dwindle down to nothing beforethat day. But he did not seem to mind.
"Cheloh!" he called. "Forward, men of the mountains! Kuch dar nahinhai!"
"Thy mother and the spirit of a fight were one!" swore Ismail just infront of him, stepping out like a boy going to a picnic. "She will lovethee! Allah! She will love thee! Allah! Allah!"
The thought seemed to appal him. For hours after that he climbed aheadin silence.
Chapter VIII