"Where is Kagig?" Monty asked, and the man smiled blankly--much more
effectively than if he had shrugged his shoulders.

"We obey Kagig at times," he said, as if that admission settled the
matter. Then there was interruption. Rustum Khan came spurring
down the road with his pistol holsters unbuttoned and his saber clattering
like a sutler's pots and pans, to see whether we needed help. He
had no sooner reined in beside us than I caught sight of Will, drawn
between curiosity and fear lest the muleteers might bolt, standing
in his stirrups to peer at us from the top of the track between the
hillocks. Somebody else caught sight of him too.

There came a shrill about from over where the women were packing
up, and everybody turned to look, Gregor Jhaere included. As hard
as the gray stallion could take her in a bee line toward Will the
daughter of the dawn with flashing teeth and blazing eyes was riding
ventre a terre.

"Maga!" Gregor shouted at her, and then some unintelligible gibberish.
But she took no more notice of him than if he had been a crow on
a branch. In a minute she was beside Will, talking to him, and from
over the top of the rise we could hear Fred shouting sarcastic
remonstrance.

"She is bad!" Gregor announced in English. It seemed to be all the
English he knew.

"Are you her father?" Monty asked, and Gregor answered in very
slipshod German: