"Take it, Captain. It is an honor." Abul Hasan rode up stiffly, brushing the dust from the mane of his horse. "No _feringhi_, to my knowledge, has ever before attempted _chaugan_, and certainly none has earned a silver knob." "Captain Hawksworth, you rode well." Mukarrab Khan had commandeered a mount and also drew alongside. There was a light scratch along the right side of his face, and the whimsical look had vanished from his eyes as he searched the faces clustered around. "A very curious accident. It has never happened before." He stared directly at Hawksworth. "How was your stick broken?" "The _feringhi_ made an unfortunate swing, Excellency," Abul Hasan interjected. "He played superbly, for a beginner, but he has still to fully master the stroke." "Obviously. But he compensated by his luck--my luck-- in saving me from a fall. He rides well enough, no matter how uncertain his stroke." The governor examined them both skeptically. Hawksworth watched the exchange in incredulous silence. The _qazi_ may be covering for his own accident. Or perhaps it wasn't an accident. And if not, then he tried to kill the Mukarrab Khan in a way that would look like it was my responsibility. "I still maintain it was most curious." Mukarrab Khan turned to watch as the stable-keepers prepared to shoot his favorite horse. "But tell me now what you think of _chaugan_, Captain Hawksworth?" "It's exhilarating. And dangerous. A seaman might say it's like taking the whipstaff all alone in a gale, without a safety line." Hawksworth tried unsuccessfully to decipher Mukarrab Khan's thoughts. "A quaint analogy, but doubtless apt." He tried to smile. "You know, Captain, there are those who mistakenly regard _chaugan _as merely a game, whereas it is actually much, much more. It's a crucible of courage. It sharpens one's quickness of mind, tests one's powers of decision. The great Akman believed the same, and for that reason he encouraged it years ago among his officials. Of course it requires horsemanship, but in the last count it's a flawless test of manhood. You did not entirely disappoint me. I suspect you English could one day be worthy of our little game." A shot rang out, and the governor's face went pale for an instant, his eyes glossed with sadness. Then he turned again to Hawksworth. "Deplorable waste. To think I bought him just last year especially for _chaugan_. From a grasping Arab, a confirmed thief who sensed I fancied that stallion and absolutely refused to bargain." The voice was calmer now, the official facade returning. "But enough. Perhaps I could interest you in a drink?" He signaled toward the edge of the field, and a waiting groom ran toward them, bearing a black clay pot with a long spout.