‘At last we got rigged out and mounted; I guess we made pretty fair heathens, all except Kinjan--he was too red and fat. He tied the old chief’s hands and his feet under his horse, and make him go first. I came next with a shooting-iron handy, and the other two brought up the rear. After a stretch, Kinjan rode up alongside the old gentleman, and began to blandhander to him in his own tongue, and presently he made me a sign, and then cut the ropes that bound his feet, and the old boy perked up, and began to spread himself; and by the time we came within sight of the town, those two were as thick as thieves. I judge Kinjan would have made a fine poker-player,’ said Mr Denver in parentheses, with a sigh of regret. ‘It was a light kind of a night, and we could see the walls around the institution from quite a way off. The old boy was heading us for the principal gate, and Kinjan turned to me: “The town’s in the hands of the ribils,” he said; “but, praises to the Almighty! the ould gintleman’s a big pot amongst thim, and he’s promised to take us to the Sheikh--or whativer his misbegotten name may be--and git us a pass and an iscort.” “Bluff!” I said; “’ware snakes.” “Faith! no,” said he, “’tis a swate old baboo, and ut’s truth he’s telling.” I wasn’t taking any, but it wouldn’t have done to interfere then, so I shut my head, and we rode on along the walls. Presently we struck what I judge was the front door; considerable of a high gate, fortified with iron spikes, and vūrry strong. There were no signs of hospitality. “I guess I’ll knock,” I said, and butted the end of my lance against the gate. A voice cried out from one of the little towers on the walls on each side in a kind of a sing-song; the old chief sung out something in answer, and then they had a palaver. I reckon they spoke some strange lingo, for Kinjan called out to me excitedly, “Can ye understand thim? May me sowl rust if oi can.” Before I could answer, we heard a sound of horses tramping, the gate’s hinges turned and it swung open, and there in front of us, drawn up in line, with spears in rest, was a troop of most a dozen mounted niggers. “Euchred, be Jasus! The ould schoundhrel! and the drinks oi promused ’um!” said Kinjan, mournfully; I guess I was thinking it was about time to throw up the cards and leave, when Torin trotted his horse past me. “Good-bye, boys,” he said, “_I’m_ going into the city.” He just waved his hand, clapped his heels into his horse’s side, and went like a catamount for the troop. They slashed and speared at him right and left, but they were taken by surprise; and I guess his release hadn’t been signed, for he went through them like so much paper. ‘Well, _sir_,’--Mr Denver rolled a cigarette and drew his breath in with a sharp hiss--‘how it came about I can’t say, but Kinjan and I, with the old gentleman between us, went through after him--they were kind of discommoded, I suppose--Torin was a big man, and he left an aperture.