“Know ye not,” he said, “that long ago she gave leave to all who ate the salt to be true to the salt? She gave the Khyber jezailchis leave to fight against her. Be sure, whatever she does, she will stand between no man and his pardon!” “But will she lead a jihad? We will not fight against her!” “Nay,” said King, drawing his breath in. Ismail's chin felt like a knife against his collar bone, and Ismail's iron fingers clutched his arm. It was time to give his hostage to dame Fortune. “She will go down into India and use her influence in the matter of the pardons!” “I believe thou art a very great liar indeed!” said the man who lacked part of his nose. “The Pathan went, and he did not come back. What proof have we.” “Ye have me!” said King. “If I show you no proof, how can I escape you?” They all grunted agreement as to that. King used his elbow to hit Ismail in the ribs. He did not dare speak to him; but now was the time for Ismail to carry information to her, supposing that to be his job. And after a minute Ismail rolled into a shadow and was gone. King gave him twenty minutes start, letting his men rest their legs and exercise their tongues. Now that he was out of the mullah's clutches--and he suspected Yasmini would know of it within an hour or two, and before dawn in any event--he began to feel like a player in a game of chess who foresees his opponent mate in so many moves. If Yasmini were to let the mullah and his men into the Caves and to join forces with him in there, he would at least have time to hurry back to India with his eighty men and give warning. He might have time to call up the Khyber jezailchis and blockade the Caves before the hive could swarm, and he chuckled to think of the hope of that. On the other hand, if there was to be a battle royal between Yasmini and the mullah he would be there to watch it and to comfort India with the news. “Now we will go on again, in order to be close to Khinjan at break of day,” he said, and they all got up and obeyed him as if his word had been law to them for years. Of all of them he was the only man in doubt--he who seemed most confident of all. They swung along into the darkness under low-hung stars, trailing behind King's horse, with only half a dozen of them a hundred yards or so ahead as an advance guard, and all of them expecting to see Khinjan loom above each next valley, for distances and darkness are deceptive in the “Hills,” even to trained eyes. Suddenly the advance guard halted, but did not shoot. And as King caught up with them he saw they were talking with some one. He had to ride up close before he recognized the Orakzai Pathan. “Salaam!” said the fellow with a grin. “I bring one hundred and eleven!” As he spoke graveyard shadows rose out of the darkness all around and leaned on rifles. “Be ye men all ex-soldiers of the raj?” King asked them. “Aye!” they growled in chorus. “What will ye?” “Pardons!” They all said the word together.