But Ismail hit him with the back of his hand in the stomach again
and danced away, hugging himself and shouting "Hee-yee-yee!" until
the jackals joined him in discontented chorus and the Khyber Pass
became full of weird howling. Then suddenly the old Afridi thought
of something else and came back to thrust his face close to King's.

"Why be a Rangar? Why be a Rajput, sahib? She loves us Hillmen better!"

"Do I look like a Hillman of the 'Hills'?" asked King.

"Nay, not now. But he who can work one miracle can work another.
Change thy skin once more and be a true Hillman!"

"Aye!" King laughed. "And fall heir to a blood-feud with every
second man I chance upon! A Hill-man is cousin to a hundred others,
and what say they in the 'Hills'?--'to hate like cousins,' eh?
All cousins are at war. As a Rangar I have left my cousins down
in India. Better be a converted Hindu and be despised by some than
have cousins in the 'Hills'! Besides--do I speak like a Hillman?"

"Aye! Never an Afridi spake his own tongue better!"

"Yet--does a Hillman slip? Would a Hillman use Punjabi words in
a careless moment?"'

"God forbid!"

"Therefore, thou dunderhead, I will be a Rangar Rajput,--a stranger
in a strange land, traveling by her favor to visit her in Khinjan!