“They’ve stood the trip pretty well, so far,” replied the doctor, carelessly.
“Yes; but consider what a mess the country is in, politically. There’s liable to be open warfare—perhaps a massacre—in a day or two, according to Kasam. And the girls may—”
“Oh, we’ll keep the girls out of danger,” declared the doctor. “I’ve no doubt they are as safe here as at home. I will acknowledge the country is more wild and uncivilized than I had dreamed, but we’re on a matter of business, Colonel, and I flatter myself we have as good as accomplished our purpose already. Kasam is sure to grant us right of way for our railroad—when he is khan.”
The Colonel smoked a while in silence.
“This young man,” he remarked, at length, “seems to have little doubt of the success of his cause. Yet from all I have picked up since we drew near to Baluchistan, that terrible Burah Khan who is dying is absolute master of the situation. And his son-“
“His son is a priest-ridden devotee of Mahomet, who knows better how to pray than to rule a turbulent nation. Don’t worry about Kasam, my dear Colonel. He’s sure to win out. And if he doesn’t—”
The doctor smiled cynically.
“What then?”
“Why, if he doesn’t,” retorted the doctor, tossing away his cigar and rising to retire, “the priest-bred weakling—is his name Ahmed?—will be just the sort of ruler the Metropolitan Construction Company loves to deal with. However the cat jumps we are sure to have the railway; so let’s go to bed.”
Just before daybreak the leader of the Afghans came to Kasam’s tent and awoke him.