each was pushed into a separate cell were the irons taken off again. Yet we were patient, for we knew this is part of her cunning, to get us away from Ali without paying him. 'May Ali die of want,' said we, with one voice all together in these cells! And now we be ready! They fed us before we had been in here an hour. Our bellies be full, but we be hungry for the 'Hills'!”
King thought of the gold-hilted knife, that still rested under his shirt. He was tempted to show it to them and find out surely whose it was and what it meant. But wisdom and curiosity seldom mingle. He thought of Ismail--“Ursus, of Quo Vadis--dog, desperado, stalking-horse and Keeper of the Queen's secrets.” It was not time yet to run risks with Ismail. The knife stayed where it was.
“I shall start for the Hills at dawn,” he said slowly, and he watched their eyes gleam at the news. No caged tiger is as wretched as a prisoned Hillman. No freed bird wings more wildly for the open. No moth comes more foolishly back to the flame again. It was easy to take pity on them--probably not one of whom knew pity's meaning.
“Is there any among you who would care to come--?”
“Ah-h-h-h!”
“--at the price of strict obedience?”
“Eh-h-h-h-h!”
It seemed there was no word in Pashtu that could express their willingness.
“We be very, very weary for our Hills!” explained the nearest man.
“Aye!” King answered. “And ye all owe Ali!”
“Uh-h-h-h-h!”
But he knew better than to browbeat them on that account just then, for the men of the North are easier led than driven--up to a certain point. Yet it is no bad plan to remind them of the fundamentals to begin with.
“Will ye obey me, and him?” he asked, laying his hand on Ismail's shoulder, as much to
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