English can be as weirdly distorted as wire, or any other supple medium, and native levies advance distortion to the point of art; but the language sounds no less good in the chilly gloom of a Khyber night. Followed another wait, this time of half an hour. Then a man's footsteps--a booted, leather-heeled man, striding carelessly. Not far behind him was the softer noise of sandals. The man began to whistle Annie Laurie. “Charles? That you?” called King. “That you, old man?” A man in khaki stepped into the moonlight. He was so nearly the image of Athelstan King that Ismail and Darya Khan stood up and stared. Athelstan strode to meet him. Their walk was the same. Angle for angle, line for line, they might have been one man and his shadow, except for three-quarters of an inch of stature. “Glad to see you, old man,” said Athelstan. “Sure, old chap!” said Charles; and they shook hands. “What's the desperate proposal?” asked the younger. “I'll tell you when we are alone.” His brother nodded and stood a step aside. The three who had taken the note to the fort came closer--partly to call attention to themselves, partly to claim credit, partly because the outer silence frightened them. They elbowed Ismail and Darya Khan, and one of them received a savage blow in the stomach by way of retort from Ismail. Before that spark could start an explosion Athelstan interfered. “Ismail! Take two men. Go down the Pass out of ear-shot, and keep watch! Come back when I whistle thus--but no sooner!” He put fingers between his teeth and blew until the night shrilled back at him. Ismail seized the leather bag and started to obey. “Leave that bag. Leave it, I say!” “But some man may steal it, sahib. How shall a thief know there is no money in it?” “Leave it and go!” Ismail departed, grumbling, and King turned on Darya Khan. “Take the remaining man, and go up the Pass!” he ordered. “Stand out of ear-shot and keep watch. Come when I whistle!” “But this one has a belly ache where Ismail smote him! Can a man with a belly ache stand guard? His moaning will betray both him and me!” objected “Lord of the Rivers.” “Take him and go!” commanded King. “But--” King was careful now not to show his bracelet. But there was something in his eye and in his attitude--a subtle suggestive something-or-other about him--that was rather more convincing than a pistol or a stick. Darya Khan thrust his rifle-end into the hurt man's stomach for encouragement and started off into the mist. “Come and ache out of the sahibs' sight!” he snarled. In a minute King and his brother stood unseen, unheard in the shadow by a patch of silver moonlight. Athelstan sat down on the mule's pack. “Well?” said the younger. “Tell me. I shall have to hurry. You see I'm in charge back there. They saw me come out, but I hope to teach 'em a lesson going back.” Athelstan nodded. “Good!” he said. “I've a roving commission. I'm ordered to enter Khinjan Caves.”