hand and made the gold bracelet on his wrist clink against the
steel bars.

A moment later be cursed himself, and felt the bracelet with his
fingernail. He had made a deep nick in the soft gold. A second
later yet he smiled.

"May God be with thee!" boomed a prisoner's voice in Pashtu.

"Didn't know that fellow was handcuffed," said Saunders. "Did you
hear the ring? They should have been taken off. Leaving his irons
on has made him polite, though."

He passed oil, and King followed him, saying nothing. But at the
next cell he repeated what he had done at the first, taking better
care of the gold but letting his wrist stay longer in the light.

"May God be with thee!" said a voice within.

"Gettin' a shade less arrogant, what?" said Saunders.

"May God be with thee!" said a man in the third stall as King passed.

"They seem to be anxious for your morals!" laughed Saunders, keeping
a pace or two ahead to do the honors of the place.

"May God be with thee!" said a fourth man, and King desisted for
the present, because Saunders looked as if he were growing inquisitive.

"Where did you arrest them?" he asked when Saunders came to a stand