Something came over the handsome face of the Persian which reminded Robin, he knew not why, of a thunder-cloud darkening the sun. The youth had evidently unwittingly touched some painful chord.
He changed the conversation.
"Is he whom you call Hassan any relative of yours?" asked the English lad.
Ali silently shook his head.
"Probably your friend?" suggested Robin.
"I have no friend," was the stern reply. "Hassan has been my companion, my shadow, for two or three years. Do not you trust him, boy, for he is not to be trusted."
"Then why keep him with you?" asked the incautious Robin. He wished the unguarded words unspoken; it had brought another cloud to the face of his benefactor. "I am always blundering," thought the youth.
Again the Amir and his English companion rode on in silence.
"What a strange comrade God has sent me!" thought Robin. "This handsome fellow is clearly unhappy in his mind; he must be walking in darkness. Lord! Help me to give some light!"
Presently Ali broke into conversation again, for he hated the company of his own thoughts.