"Hah!" said Waller, with great presence of mind, though fearing he might be recognised by Amen Oollah, who had frequently seen him in the streets of Cabul, "you see that the hand of the Prophet interposes, and does not permit you to kill me." "We shall soon prove that," replied the Khan, unsheathing his sabre; but impressed, nevertheless, by what seemed the genuine belief in fatalism, which is a peculiarity of the Mohammedan faith; so he deliberately placed the edge on Waller's throat, and said-- "To the proof of what you assert. If you are a Mussulman, repeat the _Kulma_; if in one word, however small, you fail, your head and heels shall lie together on the snow." Waller had his own sword drawn, and was prepared to run it through the heart of Amen Oollah if he felt himself failing. It was a critical moment; he knew that the edge of an Afghan sabre was sharp as a razor; he felt that he was never born to be a religious martyr; so thinking in his heart--as, perhaps, the great Galileo thought, when in the bonds of the Inquisition--"May God forgive me!" by a little stretch of memory he repeated the entire Kulma, or creed of Mohammed, on which Amen Oollah seemed satisfied, and sheathed his sword. But now Zohrab Zubberdust, a handsome and dashing Afghan gentleman, one of those soldiers of fortune who possessed only his sword and his horse, and thus served Ackbar Khan for three rupees per diem, said,-- "Khan Sahib, how comes a true believer to have a face and beard so fair?" "A Persian taught me to dye my beard yellow; and as for my face, I am a Turk of Stamboul," replied Waller, boldly. As not one of them had ever seen a Turk of Feringhistan, these answers seemed to perplex them. "Then why here?" asked Zohrab, suspiciously. "I served Shah Sujah, and have left him, for fate is against him, and he shall never reign in Afghanistan," said Waller, thinking in his heart, "How many falsehoods must I tell to deceive these artful savages?" "You are right," said Amen Oollah, grimly; "but as we deem that in serving the Shah you have been guilty of a crime, I give you as a slave to Nouradeen Lai. You shall help him to plough the land." "Salaam and thanks, Khan Sahib--I have need of a sturdy servant, as I shot one in a fit of passion lately," said a horseman, a powerfully built and venerable looking Afghan, to whose horse-girth Waller speedily found himself attached by a rope which was passed round his waist. To resist, would be simply to court death; and he was thus conducted, a prisoner, into a valley of the mountains. In fact, his captors were probably too glutted with slaughter to kill him, and so spared him for the time. But he felt that his existence would be at the caprice of his owner, Nouradeen Lai, whose first act of power was to take away his regimental sword and belt, after another acquisitive Afghan had possessed himself of his gold repeater, his purse and rings.