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Updated: August 22, 2024
In another second they were down together among the tent-pegs, King holding the Rangar's wrist with both hands and struggling to break it, and the Rangar striving for another stroke. The dagger he held had missed King's ribs by so little that his skin yet tingled from its touch. It was a dagger with bronze blade and a gold hilt her dagger. It was her perfume in the air.
King began to watch the dance again, for it did not feel safe to look too long into the Rangar's eyes. It was not wise just then to look too long at anything, or to think too long on any one subject. "Ismail is slow about returning," said the Rangar. "I wrote at the foot of the tar," said King, "that they are to detain him there until the answer comes."
It was barely probable that Jaimihr's temper would permit them the privilege of dying quickly should he come and find his palace looted; a Rangar's sword seemed better, and they made ready to die hard. "Where's Ali Partab?" There was no answer. The little crowd drew in, and one by one took up the fighting attitude that each man liked the best. "I say I did not come for blood!
In a minute King had recognized the mare, and so had the eyes of fifty men around him. No man with half an eye for a horse could have failed to recognize that black mare, having ever seen her once. She came like a goat among the rocks, just as she had once dived into darkness in the Khyber with King following. In another two minutes King had recognized the Rangar's silken turban.
She sat down obediently. Was it fortunate or unfortunate that she did not know an automobile was just turning into the lake road, a hired automobile, occupied by her fiance, Dulac? Rangar's note had reached his hands and he had acted as Rangar had hoped....
Darya Khan, the man who had brought the letter down the Pass, kept close to Ismail. "Are you armed?" King asked, as soon as he could see the whites of the Rangar's eyes through the gloom. "You jolly well bet I am!" the Rangar laughed. King mounted, and Courtenay shook hands; then he went to Rewa Gunga's side and shook hands with him, too. "Good-by!" called King. "Good-by and good luck!" "Forward!
He had merely walked about, listening to Rangar's expositions of processes and systems. After he was in bed that night he began to wonder what work would fall to him. What work had it been the custom for the heir apparent to perform?
For about a minute there was no sound at all, except the beating of King's heart. Then he moved to try and see the Rangar's turban above the rock. He could not see it. He found a niche in the rock, set his foot in it and mounted three or four feet, until his head was level with the top. The Rangar was gone!
Foote, holding himself resolutely in the character he had built for himself. "A fit of boyish temper." Rangar's eyes glinted, but he made no rejoinder. "He rather lost his temper with ME," said Mr. Foote, "when I accused him of a liaison with that girl.... He denied it, Rangar, or so I understood. He was very young and tempestuous about it. Are you sure you were right?"
He more than half suspected he was intended to understand that. But the Rangar's conversation took another line. "By jove!" he chuckled. "She expected you. She guessed you are a hound who can hunt well on a dry scent, and she dared bet you will come in spite of all odds! But she didn't expect you in Rangar dress! No, by jove! You jolly well will take the wind out of her sails!"
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