The temptation was terrific to ask why she had given that order, but King resisted it; and presently it occurred to the Pathan that his own theories on the subject might be of interest.
“She will use thee for a reward,” he said. “He who shall win and keep her favor may have his hurts dressed and his belly dosed. Her enemies may rot.”
“Who is fool enough to be her enemy?” asked King, the altogether mild and guileless.
The Pathan stuck out his tongue and squeezed his nose with one finger until it nearly disappeared into his face.
“If she calls a man enemy, how shall he prove otherwise?” he answered. Then he rolled off center, to pull out his great snuff-box from the leather bag at his waist.
“Does she call the mullah Muhammad Anim enemy?” King asked him.
“Nay, she never mentions him by name.”
“Art thou a man of thy word?” King asked.
“When it suits me.”
“There was a promise regarding my reward.”