“Since last night what time the bugle blows in the Palace yard, I have ridden,” said he.
At the sound of his voice the great chief started. “The voice I know, but not the face,” said he.
“I am Cumner’s Son,” replied the lad, and once more he spoke the sacred countersign.
IV. BY THE OLD WELL OF JAHAR
To Cumner’s Son when all was told, Pango Dooni said: “If my son be dead where those jackals swarm, it is well he died for his friend. If he be living, then it is also well. If he be saved, we will march to Mandakan, with all our men, he and I, and it shall be as Cumner wills, if I stay in Mandakan or if I return to my hills.”
“My father said in the council-room, ‘Better the strong robber than the weak coward,’ and my father never lied,” said the lad dauntlessly. The strong, tall chief, with the dark face and fierce eyes, roused in him the regard of youth for strong manhood.
“A hundred years ago they stole from my fathers the State of Mandakan,” answered the chief, “and all that is here and all that is there is mine. If I drive the kine of thieves from the plains to my hills, the cattle were mine ere I drove them. If I harry the rich in the midst of the Dakoon’s men, it is gaining my own over naked swords. If I save your tribe and Cumner’s men from the half-bred jackal Boonda Broke, and hoist your flag on the Palace wall, it is only I who should do it.”
Then he took the lad inside the house, with the great wooden pillars and the high gates, and the dark windows all barred up and down with iron, and he led him to a court-yard where was a pool of clear water. He made him bathe in it, and dark-skinned natives brought him bread dipped in wine, and when he had eaten they laid him on skins and rubbed him dry, and rolled him in soft linen, and he drank the coffee they gave him, and they sat by and fanned him until he fell asleep.
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