brother at Ali Masjid? He's likely to know a lot by the time you
get there."

"Not sure," said King. "May and may not. I'd like to see him.
Haven't seen the old chap in a donkey's age. How is he?"

"Well two days ago," said Courtenay. "What's your general plan?"

"Hunt!" said King. "Hunt for x and report. Hunt for the spirit
of the coming ruction and try to scrag it! Live in the open when
I can, sleep with the lice when it rains or snows, eat dead goat
and bad bread, I expect; scratch myself when I'm not looking, and
take a tub at the first opportunity. When you see me on my way back,
have a bath made ready for me, will you--and keep to windward!"

"Certainly!" said Courtenay. "What's the Rangar going to do with
that mare of his? Suppose he'll leave her at Ali Masjid? He'll
have to leave her somewhere on the way. She'll get stolen. Gad!
That's the brightest notion yet! I'll make a point of buying her
from the first horse-thief who comes traipsing down the Pass!"

"Here's wishing you luck!" said King. "It's time to go, sir."

He rose, and Courtenay walked with him to where his party waited
in the dark, chilled by the cold wind whistling down the Khyber.
Rewa Gunga sat, mounted, at their head, and close to him his personal
servant rode another horse. Behind them were the mules, and then
in a cluster, each with a load of some sort on his head, were the
thirty prisoners, and Ismail took charge of them officiously. Darya
Khan, the man who had brought the letter down the Pass, kept close