"He has, as you say, faith in me," Angus said quietly, "and will, doubtless, when you see him, give you his reason for that trust in me."
"Your story must be true, and I believe it; forgive me for at first doubting it. But having heard that the chief had been killed, I thought this was a plot of some kind."
"It was natural that you should not believe me," Angus said. "You could scarce credit that he was alive, and, what was still more strange, that he should be in a town occupied by the English, and yet not be a prisoner."
"This is a fortunate day for me, indeed," the Afghan said. "There is no chief whose name is more honoured in the country than that of Sadut Khan. He is as brave as a lion, good to his people, and faithful to Dost Mahomed, when so many have fallen away from him. The Ameer regards him as if he were a favourite son, and it will gladden his heart indeed, and lessen his troubles, when he learns that he is still alive."
Avoiding the town they went straight to Sadut. Angus dismounted and led the way to his little white tent, and, raising the flap, said to the chief, "He is here; enter."
The Afghan did so; and thinking it best to leave them together for a time, Angus strolled away and saw that his horse was, as usual, well wrapped up in a thick felt blanket. It was half an hour before the chief made his appearance at the entrance to the tent and looked round.
Angus at once spoke to him.
"My friend," said the chief, "I again ask your pardon for doubting you for a moment. Allah will surely bless you for the good work you have done. Sadut Khan has told me all, and it passes my understanding why a stranger should have cumbered himself with a wounded man of whom he knew nothing."
"Does not the Koran bid us succour the afflicted?"
"That is true, my friend, but there are surely limits. One will do great things for a friend, one may do something for a stranger, but to hinder one's journey and cumber one's self with a wounded stranger is surely more than can be expected of us."