“A Rangar on a black mare has gone down the pass ahead of you in a hurry,” they told him at Ali Masjid. “He had two men with him and food enough. Only stopped long enough to make his business known.”
“What did he say his business is?” asked King.
“He gave a sign and said a word that satisfied us--on that point!”
“Oh!” said King. “Can you signal down the Pass?”
“Surely.”
“Courtenay still at Jamrud?”
“Yes. In charge there and growing tired of doing nothing.”
“Signal down and ask him to have that bath ready for me that I spoke about. Good-by.”
So he left Ali Masjid at the head of a motley procession that grew noisier and more confident every hour. Ismail still clung to his stirrup, but began to grow more lively and to have a good many orders to fling to the rest.
“You mourn like a dog,” King told him. “Three howls and a whine and a little sulking--and then forgetfulness!”