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Updated: May 15, 2025
Baring his shoulder under the smelly sheepskin coat, he lifted a bandage gingerly to show the clean opening out of which King had coaxed a bullet the day before. It looked wholesome and ready to heal. "Name thy reward, hakim! We Orakzai Pathans forget no favors!"
He blocked the way into the cave and looked past the mullah at a sight that fascinated, as a serpent's eyes are said to fascinate a bird. But the mullah, who knew perfectly well what must be happening, did not trouble to turn his head. The Orakzai Pathan crouched among the women, and the women grinned.
A wounded man means six men out of the fighting line four to carry him, and one to take charge of their rifles. A few casualties greatly reduce the fighting strength of the party. In European warfare this would not take place, as the wounded would be left behind, and would be cared for by the enemy. The next day representatives of all the Orakzai tribes came in, and asked for terms.
"A Persian! A cursed heretic!" A look of pained surprise was the best retort I could accomplish; but Narayan Singh came to the rescue again. He thumped a fist on his chest as if it were a drum, and glared indignantly. "Would I, a Pathan of the Orakzai, demean myself by being servant to a Persian?" he demanded. "Lo! We bring gifts. What manner of desert man are you that reward us with insults!"
The six blind men, half-resentful, half-believing, turned away, mainly because Ismail drove them with words and blows. And as they went a tall Afridi came striding down the camp with a letter for the mullah held out in a cleft stick in front of him. "Her answer!" said Ismail with a wicked grin. "What is her word? Where is the Orakzai Pathan?" But Ismail laughed and would not answer him.
The fellow lay back across Ismail's knees, breathless but well enough contented. And after a few more minutes the Orakzai Pathan came back, and King tried to make room for him to sit. "I bade thee keep my place!" he growled, towering over King and plucking at his knife-belt irresolutely.
The yery Orakzai Pathan who had sat next King in the Cavern of Earth's Drink, and who had carried the message for him, was creeping up behind the women and already had his rifle leveled at the man with boils. "Aye!" said the mullah, watching King's eyes. "He has done well, and the road is clear!" The man with boils offered no fight. He dropped his rifle and threw his hands up.
"What will ye?" "Pardons!" They all said the word together. "Who gave you leave to come?" King asked. "None! He told us of the pardons and we came!" "Aye!" said the Orakzai Pathan, drawing King aside. "But she gave me leave to seek them out and tempt them!" "And what does she intend?" King asked him suddenly. "She? Ask Allah, who put the spirit in her! How should I know?"
Unless memory plays tricks with me, the Orakzai Pathans had burned mine, and I had my choice between sharing yours or sleeping in the rain." "Truly, huzoor." "I don't recollect that I mouthed very much about honor on that occasion. If anybody's honor was in question then, I fancy it was yours. I might have inconvenienced myself, and dishonored you, I suppose, by sleeping in the wet.
"Liar I may be, but I am one against many. Which of you would dare stand alone and lie to all the others? Nay, sahibs, I am a political offender, not a soldier!" They all laughed at that and seizing the moment when they were in a pliant mood the Orakzai Pathan proceeded to bring proposals to a head. "Are we agreed?" he asked. "Or have we waggled our beards all night long in vain?
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