“We shall reach it, Allah willing, by another daybreak,” replied the
warrior. “It will be the morning of the sixth day. The Persian gave me
full six days. I shall save twelve hours, and twelve hours to a dying
man is a long time.”

There was an accent of pride in his voice. Agahr had said the journey
would require seven days with fast riding. But Agahr was a townsman; how
should he know how fast the men of Ugg can ride?

The group of horsemen drew nearer. At noon Dirrag could see them almost
plainly enough to determine what tribe they belonged to--almost, but not
quite. Shortly afterwards, however, they whirled and rode directly
toward the two travellers, and then Dirrag straightened in his saddle,
cast the sleep from his eyes and gave a low growl.

“They are of the Tribe of Raab--a wild and rebellious band that hates
Burah and supports the cause of Kasam the Pretender.”

“Why are they here?” asked Ahmed.

“To prevent our reaching Mekran I suppose. They do not want the sirdars
and your father to publicly acknowledge you the successor to the
throne.”

“Well?”

“It was for the same reason the pool was poisoned. Treachery first; then
the sword. Can you fight, my prince?”

“I can try,” smiled Ahmed. “We are taught the arts of warfare in the
monastery.”

“You surprise me. I thought the priests passed their time in the worship
of Allah.”

“And in preparing to defend the Faith, good Dirrag. Yet I do not know
how well I can wield a cimeter in actual combat. Naked steel differs
from a wooden foil. And the men of Raab outnumber us.”

“There are a dozen of them, at least. But you and I are of the tribe of

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