“May God be with thee!” said the man at once. “From whom is your letter, and to whom?” asked King, wondering what the men in the clubs at home would say if they knew that a woman's bracelet could outweigh authority on British sod; for the Khyber Pass is as much British as the air is an eagle's or Korea Japanese, or Panama United States American, and the Khyber jezailchis are paid to help keep it so. “From the karnal sahib (colonel) at Landi Kotal, whose horse I ride,” said the jezailchi slowly, “to the arrficer at Jamrud. To King sahib, the arrficer at Ali Masjid I bore a letter also, and left it as I passed.” “Had they no spare horse at Ali Masjid? That beast is foundered.” “There are two horses there, and both lame. The man who thou sayest is thy brother is heavy on horses.” King nodded. “What is in the letter?” he asked. “Nay! Have I eyes that can see through paper?” “Thou hast ears that can listen!” answered King. “In the letter that I left at Ali Masjid there is news of the lashkar that is gathering in the 'Hills,' above Ali Masjid and beyond Khinjan. King sahib is ordered to be awake and wary.” “And to lame no more horses jumping them over rocks!” “Nay, the karnal sahib said he is to ride after no more jackals with a spear!” “Same old game!” said King to himself. “What knowest thou of the lashkar that is gathering?” “I? Oh, a little. An uncle of mine, and three half-brothers, and a brother are of its number! One came at night to tempt me to join--but I have eaten the salt. It was I who first warned our karnal sahib. Now, let me by!” “Nay, wait!” ordered King. But he lowered his pistol point. To hold up a despatch rider was about as irregular as any proceeding could be; but it was within his province to find out how far the Khyber jezailchis could be trusted and within his power more than to make up the lost time. So that the irregularity did not trouble him much. “Does this other letter tell of the lashkar, too?” “Am I God, that I should know? But of what else should the karnal sahib write?” “What is the object of the rising?” King asked him next; and the man threw his head back to laugh like a wolf. Laughter, at night in the Khyber, is an insult. Ismail chattered into his beard; but King sat still. “Object? What but to force the Khyber and burst through into India and loot? What but to plunder, now that English backs are turned the other way?” “Who said their backs are turned?” demanded King. “Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ho! Hear him!” The Khyber echoed the mockery away and away into the distance. “Their backs are this way and their faces that! The kites know it! The vultures know it! The little jackals know it! The little butchas in the valley villages all know it! Ask the rocks, and the grass--the very water running from the 'Hills'! They all know that the English fight for life!” “And the Khyber jezailchis? What of them?” King asked. “They know it better than any!” “And?” “They make ready, even as I.” “For what?”