These problems occupied his mind as he rode. They dropped from his thoughts by and by when he came in sight of his destination. He saw, standing in a clearing amid jungle and scrub, a walled fort, with a tower on which a flag was flying. Beyond rose the great mountain mass of the Himalayas. Outside the walls were huts and tents of every sort and size. As he rode among them up to the gate Ahmed saw men of every border race in their different costumes; none of them was in khaki, so that these were apparently not members of Lumsden Sahib's corps. He wondered whether they were the candidates of whom the swordsmith had spoken, and his heart sank, for they were strong, stalwart fellows of all ages, none so young as he, and looked as if they had been men of war from their youth. Challenged at the gate, he asked for Sherdil, the son of Assad. And in a few minutes the man came swaggering to him in his khaki, not a bit like the downtrodden wretch his father had lamented. He hailed Ahmed effusively, and invited him proudly into the fort. It was, as Ahmed found, in the shape of a five-pointed star. Sherdil showed him the officers' quarters on four of the points, and the magazine and armoury on the fifth; the rude huts of the infantry tucked away under the parapets; the hornwork in which the cavalry portion of the corps had their quarters. Two British officers happened to cross the parade-ground as Sherdil was showing Ahmed round. Sherdil saluted. "That is Lumsden Sahib," he said--"the tall one. The other is Bellew Sahib, the hakim. Hai! his powders are terrible: they bite the tongue, and make, as it were, an earthquake in one's inside." And then he went on to describe an ailment from which he had recently suffered, and Dr. Bellew's drastic treatment. But Ahmed only half listened: he was more interested in Lumsden Sahib, the commander of this corps of Guides. He saw a tall, athletic figure, surmounted by a fine head--much handsomer than Jan Larrens, he thought, almost as handsome as Rahmut Khan. Ahmed was struck with a sudden fancy: allowing for differences of dress, Rahmut must in his young manhood have borne a striking resemblance to this Feringhi. Harry Burnett Lumsden was at this time thirty-five years of age. He had come to India at the age of seventeen, with a cadetship in the Company's service, and while still a lieutenant, at the age of twenty-five, had been ordered by Sir Henry Lawrence to raise the corps of Guides, which he had commanded ever since except for a brief period when Lieutenant Hodson held the command. His rank was now that of captain, with a brevet majority. Sherdil was so taken up with his task of showman that he did not at once ask Ahmed's purpose in visiting him. But when he learnt what had happened at Shagpur since the capture of the chief, he cried--