"To find the source of the everlasting rumors about the so-called
'Heart of the Hills,' sir."

"Yes, yes. I remember. I read your report. You didn't find anything,
did you? Well. The story is now that the 'Heart of the Hills' has
come to life. So the spies say."

King whistled softly.

"There's no guessing what it means," said the general. "Go and
find out. Go and work with Yasmini. I shall have enough men here
to attack instantly and smash any small force as soon as it begins
to gather anywhere near the border. But Khinjan is another story.
We can't prove anything, but the spies keep bringing in rumors of
ten thousand men in Khinjan Caves, and of another large lashkar
not far away from Khinjan. There must be no jihad, King! India
is all but defenseless! We can tackle sporadic raids. We can even
handle an ordinary raid in force. But this story about a 'Heart
of the Hills' coming to life may presage unity of action and a holy
war such as the world has not seen. Go up there and stop it if
you can. At least, let me know the facts."

King grunted. To stop a holy war single-handed would be rather
like stopping the wind--possibly easy enough, if one knew the way.
Yet he knew no general would throw away a man like himself on a
useless venture. He began to look happy.

The general clucked to the mare and the big beast sank an inch
between the shafts. The sais behind set his feet against the drop-