On a fine October morning, with a light cold wind blowing down from the hills--herald of the winter--the competitors marched to the rifle range, accompanied by three of the English officers--Lumsden himself, Quintin Battye, the second in command, and Kennedy, commandant of the cavalry. Behind them came a rabble of spectators, laughing and yelling with excitement, and almost the whole of the corps. Arrived at the range, the competitors, twenty-five in all, were drawn up in line--Afridis and Sikhs, Hazaras and Waziris, Afghans and Pathans of different clans--and answered to their names as Lumsden Sahib called over the list. Ahmed's name came last, and as he, like the rest, answered "Hazur! I am here," he caught the eyes of all the officers fixed on him, and felt a strange nervousness under the scrutiny. "Where is that rascal Sherdil?" cried Lumsden. "Hazur! I am here," replied the man, saluting as he stepped out from the throng, and looking very like a dog that expected a whipping. "What does this trick mean? This Ahmed of yours is a mere boy; you said he was a little younger than yourself. You seem to be playing up for a flogging, my man." "Heaven-born, is it a time to be unjust? Did I not answer truly? I said I would not tell his age to a day, and the heaven-born would not have had me say he is older than I. That would have been very foolish." "But this is a boy: his beard is not grown; we have no place for such in the corps." "As for the beard, heaven-born, that will come. If I shave my beard and moustache--which Allah forbid!--my face will be even as Ahmed's. Shoes are tested on the feet, sahib, and a man in a fight. Behold him; his forehead is bright, since his sword-tip is red with blood. He has slain beasts and men; did he not come with me and blow up Minghal's tower? And then, to be sure, he had a moustache and the shadow of a beard, and if the heaven-born pleases we can get the conjurer in Peshawar to furnish him very quickly with the necessary hair. And he can shoot; if I do not offend to say it, he can shoot as well as the heaven-born himself; and he is a good shikari; and as for riding a horse--wah! let Kennedy Sahib judge of that. Look at a man's deeds, heaven-born, not whether he is tall or short. The thorn which is sharp is so from its youth, and----" "Chup!" said Lumsden, who, with the other officers, had scarcely been able to keep his countenance during this address. "You have a moist tongue. You quote your proverbs at me; I'll give you one: 'A closed mouth is better than talking nonsense.'" "True, sahib," said Sherdil quickly, "and there is yet another: 'If you are not a good judge of beasts, choose a young one.'" At this, and Sherdil's sententious look, as of one who says "That's a clincher," Lumsden laughed outright. "'The child is father of the man,'" said Battye, with whom quoting was a habit. "Give the boy a trial; we'll soon see whether this man's talk is all froth."