Take up the mare for my father’s gift—by God she has carried a man!”
The red mare ran to the Colonel’s son, and nuzzled against his breast.
“We be two strong men,” said Kamal then, “but she loveth the younger best.
So shall she go with a lifter’s dower, my turquoise-studded rein,
My broidered saddle and saddle-cloth, and silver stirrups twain.”
The Colonel’s son a pistol drew and held it muzzle-end.
“Ye have taken the one from a foe,” said he; “will ye take the mate from a friend?”
“A gift for a gift,” said Kamal straight; “a limb for the risk of a limb.
Thy father hath sent his son to me—I’ll send my son to him!”
With that he whistled his only son, that dropped from a mountain crest—