mountain folk! He says, 'There is no such thing as fear!' "

In his place in the lead, King whistled softly to himself; but
he drew an automatic pistol from its place beneath his armpit and
transferred it to a readier position.

Fear or no fear, Khyber-mouth is haunted after dark by the men whose
blood-feuds are too reeking raw to let them dare go home and for
whom the British hangman very likely waits a mile or two farther
south. It is one of the few places in the world where a pistol
is better than a thick stick.

Boulder, crag and loose rock faded into gloom behind; in front
on both hands ragged hillsides were beginning to close in; and
the wind, whose home is in Allah's refuse heap, whistled as it
searched busily among the black ravines. Then presently the shadow
of the thousand-foot-high Khyber walls began to cover them, and
King drew rein to count them all and let them close up. To have let
them straggle after that point would be tantamount to murder probably.

"Ride last!" he ordered Rewa Gunga. "You've got the only other pistol,
haven't you?"

Darya Khan, who had brought the letter, had a rifle; so King gave
him a roving commission on the right flank.

They moved on again after five minutes, in the same deep silence,
looking like ghosts in search of somebody to ferry them across
the Styx. Only the glow of King's cheroot, and the lesser, quicker
fire of Rewa Gunga's cigarette, betrayed humanity, except that once