me to thee, and from thee to thy breed, if thou wilt honour me."

The lad stuck it in his belt with pride, and taking from his pocket a
silver-mounted pistol, said:

"This was the gift of a fighting chief to a fighting chief when they met
in a beleaguered town, with spoil, and blood, and misery, and sick women
and children round them; and it goes to a strong man, if he will take the
gift of a lad."

At that moment there was a cry from beyond the troopers, and it was
answered from among them by a kinsman of Pango Dooni, and presently, the
troopers parting, down the line came Tang-a-Dahit, with bandaged head and
arm.

In greeting, Pango Dooni raised the pistol which Cumner's Son had given
him and fired it into the air. Straightway five hundred men did the
same.

Dismounting, Tang-a-Dahit stood before his father. "Have the Dakoon's
vermin fastened on the young bull at last?" asked Pango Dooni, his eyes
glowering. "They crawled and fastened, but they have not fed," answered
Tang-a-Dahit in a strong voice, for his wounds had not sunk deep. "By
the Old Well of Jahar, which has one side to the mountain wall, and one
to the cliff edge, I halted and took my stand. The mare and the sorrel
of Cumner's Son I put inside the house that covers the well, and I lifted
two stones from the floor and set them against the entrance. A beggar
lay dead beside the well, and his dog licked his body. I killed the cur,
for, following its master, it would have peace, and peace is more than
life. Then, with the pole of the waterpail, I threw the dead dog across