He awoke and knew it was a dream; and there beside him stood Pango Dooni,
in his dress of scarlet and gold and brown, his broadsword buckled on, a
kris at his belt, and a rich jewel in his cap.

"Ten of my captains and three of my kinsmen are come to break bread with
Cumner's Son," said he. "They would hear the tale of our kinsmen who
died against the Palace wall, by the will of the sick Dakoon."

The lad sprang to his feet fresh and well, the linen and skins falling
away from his lithe, clean body and limbs, and he took from the slaves
his clothes. The eye of the chief ran up and down his form, from his
keen blue eyes to his small strong ankle.

"It is the body of a perfect man," said he. "In the days when our State
was powerful and great, when men and not dogs ruled at Mandakan, no man
might be Dakoon save him who was clear of mote or beam; of true bone and
body, like a high-bred yearling got from a perfect stud. But two such
are there that I have seen in Mandakan to-day, and they are thyself and
mine own son."

The lad laughed. "I have eaten good meat," said he, "and I have no muddy
blood."

When they came to the dining-hall, the lad at first was abashed, for
twenty men stood up to meet him, and each held out his hand and spoke the
vow of a brother-in-blood, for the ride he had made and his honest face
together acted on them. Moreover, whom the head of their clan honoured
they also willed to honour. They were tall, barbaric-looking men, and
some had a truculent look, but most were of a daring open manner, and