To hold up a despatch rider was about as irregular as any proceeding could be; but it was within his province to find out how far the Khyber jezailchis could be trusted and within his power more than to make up the lost time. So that the irregularity did not trouble him much.
“Does this other letter tell of the lashkar, too?”
“Am I God, that I should know? But of what else should the karnal sahib write?”
“What is the object of the rising?” King asked him next; and the man threw his head back to laugh like a wolf. Laughter, at night in the Khyber, is an insult. Ismail chattered into his beard; but King sat still.
“Object? What but to force the Khyber and burst through into India and loot? What but to plunder, now that English backs are turned the other way?”
“Who said their backs are turned?” demanded King.
“Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ho! Hear him!”
The Khyber echoed the mockery away and away into the distance.
“Their backs are this way and their faces that! The kites know it! The vultures know it! The little jackals know it! The little butchas in the valley villages all know it! Ask the rocks, and the grass--the very water running from the 'Hills'! They all know that the English fight for life!”
“And the Khyber jezailchis? What of them?” King asked.