“He is not Dakoon,” said McDermot.
“Will the young man promise me?”
“Promise what?” asked Cumner’s Son.
“A mat to pray on, a house, a servant, and a loaf of bread, a bowl of goat’s milk, and a silver najil every day till I die.”
“I am not Dakoon,” said the lad, “but I promise for the Dakoon—he will do this thing to save the city.”
“And if thou shouldst break thy promise?”
“I keep my promises,” said the lad stoutly.
“But if not, wilt thou give thy life to redeem it?”
“Yes.”
The beggar laughed again and rose. “Come,” said he.