moment and ate some coffee-beans and drank some cold water from a stream
at the foot of the crag, and then began his ascent. Once or twice he
trembled, for he was worn and tired; but he remembered the last words of
Tang-a-Dahit, and his fingers tightened their hold. At last, with a
strain and a gasp, he drew himself up, and found himself on a shelf of
rock with all the great valley spread out beneath him. A moment only he
looked, resting himself, and then he searched for a way into the hills;
for everywhere there was a close palisade of rocks and saplings. At last
he found an opening scarce bigger than might let a cat through; but he
laboured hard, and at last drew himself out and looked down the path
which led into the Bar of Balmud--the great natural escarpment of giant
rocks and monoliths and medlar trees, where lay Pango Dooni's men.

He ran with all his might, and presently he was inside the huge defence.
There was no living being to be seen; only the rock-strewn plain and the
woods beyond.

He called aloud, but nothing answered; he called again the tribe-call of
Pango Dooni's men, and a hundred armed men sprang up.

"I am a brother-in-blood of Pango Dooni's Son," said he. "Tang-a-Dahit
rides for his life to the Bar of Balmud. Ride forth if ye would save
him."

"The lad speaks with the tongue of a friend," said a scowling hillsman,
advancing, "yet how know we but he lies?"

"Even by this," said Cumner's Son, and he spoke the sacred countersign
and showed again the bracelet of Pango Dooni, and told what had happened.
Even as he spoke the hillsmen gave the word, and two score men ran down