“Will this do?” he asked.
The man gave it a quick glance and looked relieved.
“Ah!” said he, “why did you not show it at first?”
“You asked for a word.”
“True, I did. But it is all right. Are you,” looking at the lad suddenly, “prepared to follow me?”
“I am.”
“Good. Where is your horse?”
Tom informed him.
“As it happens,” said the man, “my mount is at the same place.”
As they bent their steps toward the inn where Sultan had been put up, Tom looked at his companion carefully. He was a very tall and very spare man, but his shoulders were wide and his chest deep. He was attired in sober black; his hair was dark, his complexion swarthy, and an angry looking scar crossed his right cheek. Thinking it as well to secure what information he could from the guide Tom asked,