King--of the Khyber Rifles: A Romance of Adventure

by Talbot Mundy

  Wolf met wolf in the dawning day Where scent hung sweet over trodden clay, And square each stood in the jungle way Eyeing the other with ears laid back. Still were the watchers. When foe greets foe The wisest are quietest. Better to go-- Who stays to watch trouble woos trouble! But lo! They trotted together to hunt one doe, Eyeing each other with ears laid back.

  When King awoke he lay on a comfortable bed in a cave he had never yetseen, but there was no trace of Yasmini, nor of the men who must havecarried him to it. Barbaric splendor and splendor that was not by anymeans barbaric lay all about--tiger skins, ivory-legged chairs, gravenbronze vases, and a yak-hair shawl worth a rajah's ransom.

  The cave was spacious and not gloomy, for there was a wide door,apparently unguarded, and another square opening cut in the rock toserve as a window. Through both openings light streamed in like tautthreads of Yasmini's golden hair--strings of a golden zither, on whichhis own heart's promptings played a tune.

  He had no idea how long he had slept, but judged from memory of hisformer need of sleep and recogntion of his present freshness--and fromthe fact that it was a morning sun that shone through the openings--thathe must have slept the clock round.

  It did not matter. He knew it did not matter in the least. He hadno more plan than a mathematician has who starts to solve a problem,knowing that twice two is four in infinite combination. Like themathematician, he knew that he must win.

  No man ever won a battle or conceived a stroke of statesmanship, nogreat deed was ever accomplished without a first taste of the triumphantforeknowledge, such as comes only to men who have digged hard, hewing tothe line, loyal to first principles. King had been loyal all his life.

  The difference between first principles and the other thing could hardlybe better illustrated than by comparing Yasmini's position with his.From her point of view he had no ground to stand on, unless he shouldchoose to come and stand on hers. She had men, ammunition, information.He had what he stood in, and his only information had been poured intohis ears for her ends.

  Yet his heart sang inside him now; and he trusted it because thatsinging never had deceived him. He did not believe she would have lefthim alone at that state of affairs unless through over-confidence. Itis one of the absolute laws that over-confidence begets blindness andmistakes.

  She had staked on what seemed to her the certainty of India's risingat the first signal of a holy war. She believed from close acquaintancethat India was utterly disloyal, having made a study of disloyalty. Andhaving read history she knew that many a conqueror has staked on suchcards as hers, to win for lack of a better man to take the other side.

  But King had studied loyalty all his life, and he knew that besidesbeing the home of money-lenders, thugs, and murderers, India is the verymotherland of chivalry; that besides sedition she breeds gentlemen withstout hearts; that in addition to what one Christian Book calls "whoringafter strange gods" India strives after purity. He knew that India'sideals are all imperishable, and her crimes but a kaleidoscopic phase.

  Not that he was analyzing thoughts just then. He was listening to thestill small voice that told him half of his purpose was accomplished.He had probed Khinjan Caves, and knew the whole purpose for which thelawless thousands had been gathering and were gathering still. Remained,to thwart that purpose. And he had no more doubt of there being a meansto thwart it than a mathematician has of the result of two times two,applied.

  Like a mathematician, he did not waste time and confuse issues bycasting too far ahead, but began to devote himself steadily to thefigures nearest. Knots are not untied by wholesale, but are conqueredstrand by strand. He began at the beginning, where he stood.

  He became conscious of human life near by and tip-toed to the door tolook. A six-foot ledge of smooth rock ended just at the door and slopedin the other direction sharply downward toward another opening in thecliff side, three or four hundred yards away and two hundred feet lowerdown.

  Behind him in a corner at the back of the cave was a narrow fissure,hung with a leather curtain, that was doubtless the door into Khinjan'sheart; but the only way to the outer air was along that ledge above adizzying precipice, so high that the huge waterfall looked like a littlestream below. He was in a very eagle's aerie; the upper rim of Khinian'sgorge seemed not more than a quarter of a mile above him.

  Round the corner, ten feet from the entrance, stood a guard, armed tothe teeth, with a rifle, a sword, two pistols and a long curved Khyberknife stuck handy in his girdle. He spoke to the man and received noanswer. He picked up a splinter of rock and threw it. The fellow lookedat him then. He spoke again. The man transferred his rifle to the otherhand and made signs with his free fingers. King looked puzzled. The manopened his mouth and showed that his tongue was missing. He had beenmade dumb, as pegs are made to fit square holes. King went in again, towait on events and shudder.

  Nor did he have long to wait. There came a sound of grunting, up therock path. Then footsteps. Then a hoarse voice, growling orders. He wentout again to look, and beheld a little procession of women, led bya man. The man was armed, but the women were burdened with his ownbelongings--the medicine chest--his saddle and bridle--his unrifledmule-pack--and, wonder of wonders! the presents Khinjan's sick had givenhim, including money and weapons. They came past the dumb man on guardand laid them all at King's feet just inside the cave.

  He smiled, with that genial, face-transforming smile of his that has sooften melted a road for him through sullen crowds. But the man in chargeof the women did not grin. He was suffering. He growled at the women,and they went away like obedient animals, to sit half-way down the ledgeand await further orders. He himself made as if to follow them, and thedumb man on guard did not pay much attention he let women and man passbehind him, stepping one pace forward toward the edge to make more room.That was his last entirely voluntary act in this world.

  With a suddenness that disarmed all opposition the other humped himselfagainst the wall and bucked into the dumb man's back, sending him,weapons and all, hurtling over the precipice. With a wild effort torecover, and avenge himself, and do his duty, the victim fired hisrifle, that was ready cocked. The bullet struck the rock above andeither split or shook a great fragment loose, that hurtled down afterhim, so that he and the stone made a race of it for the waterfall andthe caverns into which the water tumbled thousands of feet away. Theother ruffian spat after him, and then walked back to where King stood.

  "Now heal me my boils!" he said, grinning at last, doubtless frompleasure at the prospect. He was the same man who had stood on guard atthe "guest-cave" when Ismail led King out to see the Cavern of Earth'sDrink.

  The temptation was to fling the brute after his victim. The temptationalways is to do the wrong thing--to cap wrath with wrath, injustice withvengeance. That way wars begin and are never ended. King beckonedhim into the cave, and bent over the chest of medical supplies. Then,finding the light better for his purpose at the entrance, he called theman back and made him sit down on the box.

  The business of lancing boils is not especially edifying in itself; butthat particular minor operation probably saved India. But for hope ofit the man with boils would never have stood two turns on guard handrunning and let the relief sleep on so he would not have been on dutywhen the message came to carry King's belongings to his new cave ofresidence. There would have been no object in killing the dumb man andso there would have been an expert with a loaded rifle to keep MuhammadAnim lurking down the trail.

  Muhammad Anim came--like the devil to scotch King's faith. He hadfollowed the women with the loads. He stood now, like a big bear on amountain track, swaying his head from side to side six feet away fromKing, watching the boils succumb to treatment. He grunted when the jobwas finished, and King jumped, nearly driving the lance into a new placein his patient's neck.

  "Let him go!" growled Muhammad Anim. "Go thou! Stand guard over thewomen until I come!"

  The mullah turned a rifle this way and
that in his paws, like a greatbear dancing. The Mahsudi with a sore neck could have shot him perhaps,but there are men with whom only the bravest dare try conclusions. Incold gray dawn it would have needed a martinet to make a firing squaddo execution on Muhammad Anim, even with his hands tied and his backagainst a wall. A man whose boils had just been lanced was no match forhim at all, even in broad daylight. The Hillman slunk away and did as hewas told.

  "What meant thy message?" growled the mullah. "There came a Pathan to mein the Cavern of Earth's Drink with word that yonder sits a hakim. Whatof it?"

  King had almost forgotten the message he had sent to Muhammad Anim inthe Cavern of Earth's Drink. But that was not why his eyes looked pastthe mullah's now, nor why he did not answer. The mullah did not lookround, for he knew what was happening.

  The very Orakzai Pathan who had sat next King in the Cavern of Earth'sDrink, and who had carried the message for him, was creeping up behindthe women and already had his rifle leveled at the man with boils.

  "Aye!" said the mullah, watching King's eyes. "He has done well, and theroad is clear!"

  The man with boils offered no fight. He dropped his rifle and threw hishands up. In a moment the Orakzai Pathan was in command of two rifles,holding them in one hand and nodding and making signs to King fromamong the women, whom he seemed to regard as his plunder too. The womenappeared supremely indifferent in any event. King nodded back to him.A friend is a friend in the "Hills," and rare is the man who spares hisenemy.

  "Why send that message to me?" asked Muhammad Anim.

  "Why not?" asked King. "If none know where the hakim is, how shall thehakim earn a living?"

  "None comes to earn a living in the Hills," growled the mullah, swayinghis head slowly and devouring King with cruel calculating eyes. "Why artthou here?"

  "I slew a man," said King.

  "Thou liest! It was my men who got the head that let thee in! Speak! Whyart thou here?"

  But King did not answer. The mullah resumed.

  "He who brought me the message yesterday says he has it from another,who had it from a third, that thou art here because she plans asimultaneous rising in India, and thou art from the Punjab where theSikhs all wait to rise. Is that true?"

  "Thy man said it," answered King.

  "What sayest thou?" the mullah asked.

  "I say nothing," said King.

  "Then hear me!" said the mullah. "Listen, thou." But he did not beginto speak yet. He tried to see past King into the cave and to peer aboutinto the shadows.

  "Where is she?" he asked. "Her man Rewa Gunga went yesterday, with threemen and a letter to carry, down the Khyber. But where is she?"

  So he had slept the clock round! King did not answer. He blocked the wayinto the cave and looked past the mullah at a sight that fascinated, asa serpent's eyes are said to fascinate a bird. But the mullah, who knewperfectly well what must be happening, did not trouble to turn his head.

  The Orakzai Pathan crouched among the women, and the women grinned. TheMahsudi, having surrendered and considering himself therefore absolvedfrom further responsibility at least for the present, spat over theprecipice and fingered gingerly the sore place where his boils had been.He yawned and dropped both hands to his side; and it was at that instantthat the Pathan sprang at him.

  With arms like the jaws of a vise he pinned the Mahsudi's to his side,and lifted him from off his feet. The fellow screamed, and the Pathanshouted "Ho!" But he did no murder yet. He let his victim grow fullyconscious of the fate in store for him, holding him so that his frantickicks were squandered on thin air. He turned him slowly, until he wasupside-down; and so, perpendicular, face-outward, he hove him forwardlike a dead log. He stood and watched his victim fall two or threethousand feet before troubling to turn and resume both rifles; and itwas not until then, as if he had been mentally conscious of each move,that the mullah turned to look, and seeing only one man nodded.

  "Good!" he grunted. "'Shabash!"' (Well done!)

  Then he turned his head to stare into King's face, with the scrutiny ofa trader appraising loot. Fire leaped up behind his calculating eyes.And without a word passing between them, King knew that this man as wellas Yasmini was in possession of the secret of the Sleeper. Perhaps heknew it first; perhaps she snatched the keeping of the secret from him.At all events he knew it and recognized King's likeness to the Sleeper,for his eyes betrayed him. He began to stroke his beard monotonouslywith one hand. The rifle, that he pretended to be holding, really leanedagainst his back and with the free hand he was making signals.

  King knew well he was making signals. But he knew too that in Yasmini'spower, her prisoner, he had no chance at all of interfering with herplans. Having grounded on the bottom of impotence, so to speak, any tidethat would take him off must be a good tide. He pretended to be aware ofnothing, and to be particularly unaware that the Pathan, with a rifle ineach hand, was pretending to come casually up the path.

  In a minute he was covered by a rifle. In another minute the mullah hadlashed his hands. In five minutes more the women were loaded again withhis belongings and they were all half-way down the track in single file,the mullah bringing up the rear, descending backward with rifle readyagainst surprise, as if he expected Yasmini and her men to pounce outany minute to the rescue.

  They entered a tunnel and wound along it, stepping at short intervalsover the bodies of three stabbed sentries. The Pathan spurned them withhis heel as he passed. In the glare at the tunnel's mouth King trippedover the body of a fourth man and fell with his chin beyond the edge ofa sheer precipice.

  They were on a ledge above the waterfall again, having come througha projection on the cliff's side, for Khinjan is all rat-runs andprojections, like a sponge or a hornet's nest on a titanic scale.

  The Pathan laughed and came back to gather him like a sheaf of corn. Thegreat smelly ruffian hugged him to himself as he set him on his feet.

  "Ah! Thou hakim!" he grinned. "There is no pain in my shoulder at all!Ask of me another favor when the time comes! Hey, but I am sick ofKhinjan!"

  He gave King a shove along the path in the general direction of themullah. Then he seized the dead body by the legs, and hurled it like asling shot, watching it with a grin as it fell in a wide parabola. Afterthat he took the dead man's rifle, and those of the three other deadmen, that he had hidden in a crevice in the rock, and loaded them all ona woman in addition to King's saddle that she carried already.

  "Come!" he said. "Hurry, or Bull-with-a-beard yonder will remember usagain. I love him best when he forgets!"

  They soon reached another cave, at which the mullah stopped. It was adark ill-smelling hole, but he ordered King into it and the Pathan afterhim on guard, after first seeing the women pile all their loadsinside. Then he took the women away and went off muttering to himself,swaggering, swinging his right arm as he strode, in a way few nativesdo.

  "Let us hope he has forgotten these!" the Pathan grinned, touching thepile of rifles. "Weight for weight in silver they will bring me a fineprice! He may forget. He dreams. For a mullah he cares less for meat andmoney than any I ever saw. He is mad, I think. It is my opinion Allahtouched him!"

  "What is that, under thy shirt?" King asked.

  The Pathan grinned, and undid the button. There was a second shirtunderneath, and to that on the left breast were pinned two Britishmedals.

  "Oh, yes!" he laughed. "I served the raj! I was in the army elevenyears."

  "Why did you leave it?" King asked, remembering that this man loved tohear his own voice.

  "Oh, I had furlough, and the bastard who stood next me in the ranks wasthe son of a dog with whom my father had a blood-feud. The blind fooldid not know me. He received his furlough on the same day as I. I wouldnot lay finger on him that side of the border, for we ate the same salt.I knifed him this side the border. It was no affair, of the British. ButI was seen, and I fled. And having slain a man, and having no doubt areport had gone back to the regiment, I entered this place. Except for araid now and then
to cool my blood I have been here ever since. It is adevil of a place."

  Now the art of ruling India consists not in treading barefooted onscorpions--not in virtuous indignation at men who know no better--but inseeking for and making much of the gold that lies ever amid the dross.There is gold in the character of any man who once passed the grillingtests before enlistment in a British-Indian regiment. It may needexperience to lay a finger on it, but it is surely there.

  "I heard," said King, "as I came toward the Khyber in great haste (forthe police were at my heels)--"

  "Ah, the police!" the Pathan grinned pleasantly.

  The inference was that at some time or other he had left his mark on thepolice.

  "I heard," said King, "that men are flocking back to their oldregiments."

  "Aye, but not men with a price on their heads, little hakim!"

  "I could not say," said King. To seem to know too much is as bad as todrink too much. "But I heard say that the sirkar has offered pardons toall deserters who return."

  "Hah! The sirkar must be afraid. The sirkar needs men!"

  "For myself," said King, "a whole skin in the 'Hills' seems better thanone full of bullet holes in India."

  "Hah! But thou art a hakim, not a soldier!"

  "True!" said King.

  "Tell me that again! Free pardons? Free pardons for all deserters?"

  "So I heard."

  "Ah! But I was seen to slay a man of my own regiment."

  "On this side the border or that?" asked King artfully.

  "On this side."

  "Ah, but you were seen."

  "Ay! But that is no man's business. In India I earned in my salt. Iobeyed the law. There is no law here in the 'Hills.' I am minded togo back and seek that pardon! It would feel good to stand in the rankagain, with a stiff-backed sahib out in front of me, and the thunder ofthe gun-wheels going by. The salt was good! Come thou with me!"

  "The pardon is for deserters," King objected, "not for politicaloffenders."

  "Haugh!" said the Pathan, bringing down his flat hand hard on thehakim's thigh. "I will attend to that for thee. I will obtain my pardonfirst. Then will I lead thee by the hand to the karnal sahib and lie tohim and say, 'This is the one who persuaded me against my will to comeback to the regiment!"'

  "And he will believe? Nay, I would be afraid!" said King.

  "Would a pardon not be good?" the Pathan asked him. "A pardon and leaveto swagger through the bazaars again and make trouble with the daughtersand wives of fat traders--a pardon--Allah! It would be good to salutethe karnal sahib again and see him raise a finger, thus; and to havethe captain sahib call me a scoundrel--or some worse name if he loves mevery much, for the English are a strange race--"

  "Thou art a dreamer!" said King. "Untie my hands; the thong cuts me."The Pathan obeyed.

  "Dreamer, am I? It is good to dream such dreams. By Allah, I've a mindto see that dream come true! I never slew a man on Indian soil, only inthese 'Hills.' I will go to them and say 'Here I am! I am a deserter. Iseek that pardon!' 'Truly I will go! Come thou with me, little hakim!"

  "Nay," said King, "I have another thought."

  "What then?"

  "You, who were seen to slay a man a yard this side of the border--"

  "Nay; half a mile this side!"

  "Half a mile, then. You who were seen to slay a fellow soldier of yourregiment, and I who am a political offender, do not win pardons soeasily as that."

  "Would they hang us?"

  That was the first squeamishness the Pathan had shown of any kind,but men of his race would rather be tortured to death than hanged in amerciful hempen noose.

  "They would hang us," said King, "unless we came bearing gifts."

  "Gifts? Has Allah touched thee? What gifts should we bring? A dozenstolen rifles? A bag of silver? And I am the dreamer, am I?"

  "Nay," said King. "I am the dreamer. I have seen a good vision."

  "Well?"

  "There are others in these Hills--others in Khinjan who wear Britishmedals?"

  The Pathan nodded.

  "How many?" asked King.

  "Hundreds. Men fight first on one side, then on the other, being true toeither side while the contract lasts. In all there must be the makingsof many regiments among the 'Hills.'"

  King nodded. He himself had seen the chieftains come to parley afterthe Tirah war. Most of them had worn British medals and had worn themproudly.

  "If we two," he said, speaking slowly, "could speak with some of thosemen and stir the spirit in them and persuade them to feel as thou dost,mentioning the pardon for deserters and the probability of bonuses tothe time-expired for reenlistment; if we could march down the Khyberwith a hundred such, or even with fifty or with twenty-five or witha dozen men--we would receive our pardon for the sake of servicerendered."

  "Good!"

  The Pathan thumped him on the back so hard that his eyes watered.

  "We would have to use much caution," King advised him, when he was ableto speak again.

  "Aye! If Bull-with-a-beard got wind of it he would have us crucified.And if she heard of it--"

  He was silent. Apparently there were no words in his tongue that couldcompass his dread of her revenge. He was silent for ten minutes,and King sat still beside him, letting memory of other days do itswork--memory of the long, clean regimental lines, and of order anddecency and of justice handed out to all and sundry by gentlemen who didnot think themselves too good to wear a native regiment's uniform.

  "In two days I could do the drill again as well as ever," he said atlast. Then there was silence again for fifteen minutes more. "I couldalways shoot," he murmured; "I could always shoot."

  When Muhammad Anim came back they had both forgotten to replace thelashing on King's wrists, but the mullah seemed not to notice it.

  "Come!" he ordered, with a sidewise jerk of his great ugly head, andthen stood muttering impatiently while they obeyed.

  He had twice the number of women with him, but none of them the same;and he had brought five ruffians to guard them, who pounced on thecaptured rifles and claimed one apiece, to the Pathan's loud-growleddisgust. Then the women were made to gather up King's belongings, and ata word from the mullah they started in single file--the mullah leading,then two men, then King, then the Orakzai Pathan, and then the otherthree. The Pathan began to whisper busily to the man next behind andnoticing that King looked straight forward and contented himself; hisheart was singing within him unexplainedly; he wanted to sing and dance,as once David did before the ark. He did not feel in the least like aprisoner.

  They marched downward through interminable tunnels and along ledgespoised between earth and heaven, until they came at last to the tunnelleading to the one entrance into Khinjan Caves. Just before they enteredit two more of the mullah's men came up with them, leading horses. Onehorse was for the mullah, and they helped King mount the other, showinghim more respect than is usually shown a prisoner in the "Hills."

  Then the mullah led the way into the tunnel, and he seemed in deadlyfear. The echo of the hoof-beats irritated him. He eyed each hole in theroof as if Yasmini might be expected to shoot down at him or drench himwith boiling oil and hurried past each of them at a trot, only to drawrein immediately afterward because the noise was too great.

  It became evident that his men had been at work here too, for atintervals along the passage lay dead bodies. Yasmini must have postedthe men there, but where was she? Each of them lay dead with a knifewound in his back, and the mullah's men possessed themselves of riflesand knives and cartridges, wiping off blood that had scarcely cooledyet.

  When they came to the end of the tunnel it was to find the door intothe mosque open in front of them, and twenty more of Muhammad Anim's menstanding guard over the eyelashless mullah. They had bound and gaggedhim. At a word from Muhammad Anim they loosed him; and at a threat thehairless one gave a signal that brought the great stone door slidingforward on its oiled bronze grooves.

  Then, with a dozen jests thrown
to the hairless one for consolation, andan utter indifference to the sacredness of the mosque floor, they soughtouter air, and Muhammad Anim led them up the Street of the Dwellingstoward Khinian's outer ramparts. They reached the outer gate withoutincident and hurried into the great dry valley beyond it. As they rodeacross the valley the mullah thumbed a long string of beads. UnlikeYasmini, he was praying to one god; but he seemed to have many prayers.His back was a picture of determined treachery--the backs of his menwere expressions of the creed that "He shall keep who can!" King rodeall but last now and had a good view of their unconsciously vauntedblackguardism. There was not a hint of honor or tenderness among thelot, man, woman or mullah. Yet his heart sang within him as if he wereriding to his own marriage feast!

  Last of all, close behind him, marched his friend, the Orakzai Pathan,and as they picked their way among the boulders across the mile-widemoat the two contrived to fall a little to the rear. The Pathan beganspeaking in a whisper and King, riding with lowered head as if he werestudying the dangerous track, listened with both ears.

  "She sent her man Rewa Gunga toward the Khyber with a message," hewhispered. "He took a few men with him, and he is to send them with themessage when they reach the Khyber, but he is to come back. All hewent for is to make sure the message is not intercepted, forBull-with-a-beard is growing reckless these days. He knew what was doingand said at once that she is treating with the British, but there werefew who believed that. There are more who wonder where she hides whilethe message is on its way. None has seen her. Men have swarmed into theCavern of Earth's Drink and howled for her, but she did not come. Thenthe mullah went to look for his ammunition that he stored and sealed ina cave. And it was gone. It was all gone. And there was no proof of whohad taken it!

  "Hakim, there be some who say--and Bull-with-a-beard is one ofthem--that she is afraid and hides. Men say she fears vengeance for thestolen ammunition, because it was plenty for a conquest of India. So mensay. So say these here, for I have asked them."

  "And thou?" asked King, struggling to keep the note of exultation fromhis voice. He did not believe she was hiding. She might be staring intoa crystal in some secret cave--she might be planning new mischief of anykind. But afraid she was surely not. And just as surely he could vow shewas working out her own undoing.

  "I?" said the Pathan. "I swear she is afraid of nothing. If she hastaken all the ammunition, then we shall hear from it again and from hertoo!"

  "And what of me?" asked King. "What will the mullah do with me?"

  "His men say he is desperate. His own are losing faith in him. Hesnatched thee to be a bait for her, having it in mind that a man whomshe hides in her private part of Khinjan must be of great value to her.He has sworn to have thee skinned alive on a hot rock should she fail tocome to terms!"

  That being not such a comforting reflection, King rode in silence fora while, with the Pathan trudging solemnly beside his stirrup keepingsemblance of guard over him. When they reached the steep escarpment hehad to dismount, although the mullah in the lead tried to make his ownbeast carry him up the lower spur and was mad--angry with his men forlaughing when the horse fell back with him.

  Far in the rear King and the Pathan shoved and hauled and nearly losttheir horse a dozen times at that. But once at the top the mullah set afurious pace and the laden women panted in their efforts to keep up, themen taking less notice of them than if they had been animals.

  The march went on in single file until the sun died down in splendidfury. Then there began to be a wind that they had to lean against, butthe women were allowed no rest.

  At last at a place where the trail began to widen, the mullah beckonedKing to ride beside him. It was not that he wished to be communicative,but there were things King knew that he did not know, and he had his ownway of asking questions.

  "Damned hakim!" he growled. "Pill-man! Poulticer! That is a sweeper'strade of thine! Thou shalt apply it at my camp! I have some wounded andsome sick."

  King did not answer, but buttoned his coat closer against the keen wind.The mullah mistook the shudder for one of another kind.

  "Did she choose thee only for thy face?" he asked. "Did she not considerthy courage? Does she love thee well enough to ransom thee?"

  Again King did not answer, but he watched the mullah's face keenly inthe dark and missed nothing of its expression. He decided the man was indoubt---even racked by indecision.

  "Should she not ransom thee, hakim, thou shall have a chance to showmy men how a man out of India can die! By and by I will lend thee amessenger to send to her. Better make the message clear and urgent!Thou shalt state my terms to her and plead thine own cause in the sameletter. My camp lies yonder."

  He motioned with one sweep of his arm toward a valley that lay in shadowfar below them. As far as the slope leading down to it was visible inthe moonlight it was littered with what the "Hills" call "hell-stones,"that will neither lie flat nor keep on rolling, and are dangerous to manand beast alike. Nothing else could be made out through the darkness buta few twisted tamarisk trees, that served to make the savagery yet moresavage and the loneliness more desolate. The gloom below the trees wasthat of the very underdepths of hell itself.

  The mullah pointed to a rock that rose like a shadow from the deeperblackness.

  "Yes," said King, "I have seen." And the mullah stared at him. Then heshouted, and the top of the rock turned into a man, who gave them leaveto advance, leaning on his rifle as one who had assured himself of theiridentity long minutes ago.

  As they approached it the rock clove in two and became two greatpillars, with a man on each. And between the pillars they looked downinto a valley lit by fires that burned before a thousand hide tents,with shadows by the hundred flitting back and forth between them. A dullroar, like the voice of an army, rose out of the gorge.

  "More than four thousand men!" said the mullah proudly.

  "What are four thousand for a raid into India?" sneered King, greatlydaring.

  "Wait and see!" growled the mullah; but he seemed depressed.

  He led the way downward, getting off his horse and giving the reins toa man. King copied him, and part-way sliding, part stumbling down theyfound their way along the dry bed of a water-course between two spursof a hillside, until they stood at last in the midst of a cluster of adozen sentries, close to a tamarisk to which a man's body hung spiked.That the man had been spiked to it alive was suggested by the body'sattitude.

  Without a word to the sentries the mullah led on down a lane through themidst of the camp, toward a great open cave at the far side, in which abonfire cast fitful light and shadow. Watchers sitting by the thousandtents yawned at them, but took no particular notice.

  The mouth of the cave was like a lion's, fringed with teeth. There weremen in it, ten or eleven of them, all armed, squatting round the fire.

  "Get out!" growled the mullah. But they did not obey. They sat andstared at him.

  "Have ye tents?" the mullah asked, in a voice like thunder.

  "Aye!" But they did not go yet.

  One of the men, he nearest the mullah, got on his feet, but he had tostep back a pace, for the mullah would not give ground and their breathwas in each other's faces.

  "Where are the bombs? And the rifles? And the many cartridges?" hedemanded. "We have waited long, Muhammad Anim. Where are they now?"

  The others got up, to lend the first man encouragement. They leaned onrifles and surrounded the mullah, so that King could only get a glimpseof him between them. They seemed in no mood to be treated cavalierly--inno mood to be argued with. And the Mullah did not argue.

  "Ye dogs!" he growled at them, and he strode through them to the fireand chose himself a good, thick burning brand. "Ye sons of namelessmothers!"

  Then he charged them suddenly, beating them over head and face andshoulders, driving them in front of him, utterly reckless of theirrifles. His own rifle lay on the ground behind him, and King kicked itsstock clear of the fire.

  "Oh, I shall pray for yo
u this night!" Muhammad Anim snarled. "What acurse I shall beg for you! Oh, what a burning of the bowels ye shallhave! What a sickness! What running of the eyes! What sores! What boils!What sleepless nights and faithless women shall be yours! What a prayerI will pray to Allah!"

  They scattered into outer gloom before his rage, and then came backto kneel to him and beg him withdraw his curse. He kicked them as theyknelt and drove them away again. Then, silhouetted in the cave mouth,with the glow of the fire behind him, he stood with folded arms anddared them shoot. He lacked little in that minute of being a full-grownbrute at bay. King admired him, with reservations.

  After five minutes of angry contemplation of the camp he turned on acontemptuous heel and came back to the fire, throwing on more fuel froma great pile in a corner. There was an iron pot in the embers. He seizeda stick and stirred the contents furiously, then set the pot betweenhis knees and ate like an animal. He passed the pot to King when he hadfinished, but fingers had passed too many times through what was left init and the very thought of eating the mess made his gorge rise; so Kingthanked him and set the pot aside.

  Then, "That is thy place!" Muhammad Anim growled, pointing over hisshoulder to a ledge of rock, like a shelf in the far wall. There was abed upon it, of cotton blankets stuffed with dry grass. King walked overand felt the blankets and found them warm from the last man who had lainthere. They smelt of him too. He lifted them and laughed. Taking thewhole in both hands he carried it to the fire and threw it in, and thesudden blaze made the mullah draw away a yard; but it did not make himspeak.

  "Bugs!" King explained, but the mullah showed no interest. He watched,however, as King went back to the bed, and subsequent proceedings seemedto fascinate him.

  Out of the chest that one of the women had set down King took soap.There was a pitcher of water between him and the fire; he carried itnearer. With an improvised scrubbing brush of twigs he proceeded toscrub every inch of the rock-shelf, and when he had done and had driedit more or less, he stripped and began to scrub himself.

  "Who taught thee thy squeamishness?" the mullah asked at last, gettingup and coming nearer. It was well that King's skin was dark (althoughit was many shades lighter than his face, that had been stained socarefully). The mullah eyed him from head to foot and looked awfullysuspicious, but something prompted King and he answered without aninstant's hesitation.

  "Why ask a woman's questions?" he retorted. "Only women ask when theyknow the answer. When I watched thee with the firebrand a short whileago, oh, mullah, I mistook thee lor a man."

  The mullah grunted and began to tug his beard. But King said no more andwent on washing himself.

  "I forgot," said the mullah then, "that thou art her pet. She would notlove thee unless thy smell was sweet."

  "No," said King quite cheerfully--going it blind, for he did not knowwhat had possessed him to take that line, but knew he might as well behanged for a sheep as for a lamb. "No, if I stank like thee she would notlove me."

  The mullah snorted and went back to the fire, but he took King's cake ofsoap with him and sat examining it.

  "Tauba!" he swore suddenly as if he had made a gruesome discovery. "Suchfilthy stuff is made from the fat of pigs!"

  "Doubtless!" said King. "That is why she uses it, and why I use it. Sheis a better Muhammadan than thou. She would surely cleanse her skin withthe fat of pigs!"

  "Thou art a shameless one!" said the mullah, shaking his head like abear.

  "I am what Allah made me!" answered King, and then, for the sake of theimpression, he went through the outward form of muslim prayer, spreadinga mat and omitting none of the genuflections. When he had finished heunfolded his own blankets that a woman had thrown down beside the chestand spread them carefully on the rock-shelf. But though he was allowedto climb up and lie there, he was not allowed to sleep--nor did he wantto sleep--for more than an hour to come.

  The mullah came over from the fire again and stood beside him, glaringlike a great animal and grumbling in his beard.

  "Does she surely love thee?" he asked at last, and King nodded, becausehe knew he was on the trail of information.

  "So thou art to ape the Sleeper in his bronze mail, eh? Thou art tocome to life, as she was said to come to life, and the two of you are toplunder India? Is that it?"

  King nodded again, for a nod is less committal than a word; and the nodwas enough to start the mullah off again.

  "I saw the Sleeper and his bride before she knew of either! It was I wholet her into Khinjan! It was I who told the men she is the 'Heart ofthe Hills' come to life! She tricked me! But this is no hour for bearinggrudges. She has a plan and I am minded to help."

  King lay still and looked up at him, sure that treachery was theultimate end of any plan the mullah Muhammad Anim had. India has beensaved by the treachery of her enemies more often than ruined by falsefriends. So has the world, for that matter.

  "A jihad when the right hour comes will raise the tribes," the mullahgrowled. "She and thou, as the Sleeper and his mate, could workwonders. But who can trust her? She stole that head! She stole all theammunition! Does she surely love thee?"

  King nodded again, for modesty could not help him at that juncture. Loveand boastfulness go together in the "Hills."

  "She shall have thee back, then, at a price!"

  King did not answer. His brown eyes watched the mullah's, and he drewhis breath in little jerks, lest by breathing aloud he should miss oneword of what, was coming.

  "She shall have thee back against Khinian and the ammunition! She andthou shall have India, but I shall be the power behind you! She mustgive me Khinjan and the ammunition! She must admit me to the innercaves, whence her damned guards expelled me. I must have the reins in mytwo hands so! Then, thou and she shall have the pomp and glitter while Iguide!"

  King did not answer.

  "Dost understand?"

  King murmured something unintelligible.

  "Otherwise, I and my men will storm Khinjan, and she and thou shall godown into Earth's Drink lashed together!"

  King shuddered, not because he felt afraid, but because some instincttold him to make the mullah think him afraid. He was far too interestedto be fearful.

  "Ye shall both be tortured before the plunge into the river! She shallbe tortured in the Cavern of Earth's Drink before the men!"

  King shuddered again, this time without an effort. He could imagine thethousands watching grimly while the flayer used his knife.

  "I have men in Khinjan! I have as many as she! On the day I march therewill be a revolt within. She would better agree to terms!"

  King lay looking at him, like a prisoner on the rack undergoingexamination. He did not answer.

  "Write thou a letter. Since she loves thee, state thine own case to her.Tell her that I hold thee hostage, and that Khinjan is mine already fora little fighting. In a month she can not pick out my men from amongher own. Her position is undermined. Tell her that. Tell her that if sheobeys she shall have India and be queen. If she disobeys, she shall diein the Cavern of Earth's Drink!"

  "She is a proud woman, mullah," answered King. "Threats to such asshe--?"

  The mullah mumbled and strode back and forth three times between King'sbed and the fire, with his fists knotted together behind him and hishead bent, as Napoleon used to walk. When he stood beside the bed againat last it was with his mind made up, as his clenched fists and his eyesindicated.

  "Make thine own terms with her!" he growled. "Write the letter and sendit! I hold thee; she holds Khinjan and the ammunition. I am between herand India. So be it. She shall starve in there! She shall lie in thereuntil the war is over and take what terms are offered her in the end!Write thine own letter! State the case, and bid her answer!"

  "Very well," said King. He began to see now definitely how India was tobe saved. It was none of his business to plan yet, but to help others'plans destroy themselves and to sow such seed in the broken ground asmight bear fruit in time.

  The mullah left him, to squa
t and gaze into the fire, and mutter, andKing lay still. After a while the mullah went and carried a great waterbowl nearer to the fire and, as King had done, stripped himself. Then heheaped great fagots on the fire--wasteful fagots, each of which had costsome woman hours of mountain climbing. And in the glow of the leapingflame he scrubbed himself from head to foot with King's soap. Finally,with a feat of strength that nearly forced an exclamation out of King,he lifted the great water bowl in both hands and emptied the wholecontents over himself. Then he resumed his smelly garments withouttroubling to dry his body, and got out a Quran from a corner and beganto read it in a nasal singsong that would have kept dead men awake. Kinglay and watched and listened.

  Reading scripture only seemed to fire the mullah's veins. For him sleepwas either out of reach or despicable, perhaps both. He seemed in a moodto despise anything but conquest and strode back and forth up and downthe cave like a caged bear, muttering to himself.

  After a time he went to the mouth of the cave, to stand and stare outat the camp where the thousand fires were dying fitfully and wood smokepurged the air of human nastiness. The stars looked down on him, and heseemed to try to read them, standing with fists knotted together at hisback.

  And as he stood so, six other mullahs came to him and began to arguewith him in low tones, he browbeating them all with furious words hissedbetween half-closed teeth. They were whispering still when King fellasleep. It was courage, not carelessness, that let him sleep--courageand a great hope born of the mullah's perplexity.

  He dreamed that he was writing, writing, writing, while the torturersmade a hot fire ready in the Cavern of Earth's Drink and whetted kniveson the bridge end while the organ played The Marseillaise. He dreamedYasmini came to him and whispered the solution to it all, but what shewhispered he could not catch, although she whispered the same wordsagain and again and seemed to be angry with him for not listening.

  And when he awoke at last he had fragments of his blanket in eitherhand, and the sun was already shining into the jaws of the cave. Thecamp was alive and reeked of cooking food. But the mullah was gone, andso was all the money the women had brought, together with his medicinesand things from Khinjan.

  Chapter XVII