they were yet twenty to two. One stood his ground, and it would have
gone ill for Cumner's Son, for this thief had him at fatal advantage, had
it not been for the horseman who had followed the lad from the forge-fire
to Koongat Bridge. He stood up in his stirrups and cut down with his
broadsword, so that the blade was driven through the head and shoulders
of his foe as a woodsman splits a log half through, and grunts with the
power of his stroke.

Then he turned to the lad.

"What stranger calls by the word of our tribe?" he asked.

"I am Cumner's Son," was the answer, "and my father is brother-in-blood
with Pango Dooni. I ride to Pango Dooni for the women and children's
sake."

"Proof! Proof! If you be Cumner's Son, another word should be yours."

The Colonel's Son took out the bracelet from his breast. "It is safe hid
here," said he, "and hid also under my tongue. If you be from the Neck
of Baroob you will know it when I speak it;" and he spoke reverently the
sacred countersign.

By a little fire kindled in the road, the bodies of their foe beside
them, they vowed to each other, mingling their blood from dagger pricks
in the arm. Then they mounted again and rode towards the Neck of Baroob.

In silence they rode awhile, and at last the hillsman said: "If fathers
be brothers-in-blood, behold it is good that sons be also."