"Aye! Aye! Aye!" agreed the others.

"Now," he said, gathering the reins and swinging into the saddle,
"who knows the way to Khinjan?"

"Which of us does not!"

"Ye all know it? Then ye all are border thieves and worse! No
honest man knows that road! Lead on, Darya Khan, thou Lord of Rivers!
Do thy duty as badragga and beware lest we get our knees wet at the
fords! Ismail, you march next. Now I. You other two and the mule
follow me. Let the man with the belly ache ride last on the other
horse. So! Forward march!"

So Darya Khan led the way with his rifle, and King's face glowed
in cigarette light not very far behind him as he legged his horse
up the narrow track that led northward out of the Khyber bed.

It would be a long time before he would dare smoke a cigar again,
and his supply of cigarettes was destined to dwindle down to nothing
before that day. But he did not seem to mind.

"Cheloh!" he called. "Forward, men of the mountains! Kuch dar
nahin hai!"

"Thy mother and the spirit of a fight were one!" swore Ismail just
in front of him, stepping out like a boy going to a picnic. "She
will love thee! Allah! She will love thee! Allah! Allah!"