“Yes,” said King, “I have seen.” And the mullah stared at him. Then he shouted, and the top of the rock turned into a man, who gave them leave to advance, leaning on his rifle as one who had assured himself of their identity long minutes ago. As they approached it the rock clove in two and became two great pillars, with a man on each. And between the pillars they looked down into a valley lit by fires that burned before a thousand hide tents, with shadows by the hundred flitting back and forth between them. A dull roar, 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, greatly daring. “Wait and see!” growled the mullah; but he seemed depressed. He led the way downward, getting off his horse and giving the reins to a man. King copied him, and part-way sliding, part stumbling down they found their way along the dry bed of a water-course between two spurs of a hillside, until they stood at last in the midst of a cluster of a dozen 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's attitude. Without a word to the sentries the mullah led on down a lane through the midst of the camp, toward a great open cave at the far side, in which a bonfire cast fitful light and shadow. Watchers sitting by the thousand tents yawned at them, but took no particular notice. The mouth of the cave was like a lion's, fringed with teeth. There were men 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 and stared 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 to step back a pace, for the mullah would not give ground and their breath was in each other's faces. “Where are the bombs? And the rifles? And the many cartridges?” he demanded. “We have waited long, Muhammad Anim. Where are they now?” The others got up, to lend the first man encouragement. They leaned on rifles and surrounded the mullah, so that King could only get a glimpse of him between them. They seemed in no mood to be treated cavalierly--in no mood to be argued with. And the Mullah did not argue. “Ye dogs!” he growled at them, and he strode through them to the fire and chose himself a good, thick burning brand. “Ye sons of nameless mothers!” Then he charged them suddenly, beating them over head and face and shoulders, driving them in front of him, utterly reckless of their rifles. His own rifle lay on the ground behind him, and King kicked its stock clear of the fire.