rtainly
right, and the older members of the council showed their agreement with
his reasoning. But Dilasah, after a hesitation so brief as to be
scarcely noticeable, said with a disdainful smile--

"The ass does not know how to laugh. Is Ahsan the only man of knowledge
and understanding? The knowing bird is not caught in the snare, and I,
Dilasah, am not a fledgeling. The expedition was in truth the talk of
the bazar, but I did not swallow what was said there. How should the
truth be known? I sought out in Peshawar a holy fakir whom I know. He
hates the infidel Feringhis, and he has means of finding out their
plans, most marvellous. The talk of the bazar and the truth were as
different as fire and water; and what I have told is not the bazar-talk,
but the truth as I learnt it from the fakir."

"Then, if he hates the Feringhis, will he not warn Lal Jan, and so Lal
Jan will fly to the hills with his treasure, and the Feringhis will get
nothing, so that when our people fall upon them their bags will be
empty?"

"Not so," said Dilasah, in answer to this further question of Ahsan. "He
is no friend to Lal Jan; Lal Jan is, indeed, a thorn in his quilt; he
will gain double delight from the spoiling, first of Lal Jan, and
afterwards of the Feringhis. But why talk thus? If Ahsan, who is old and
toothless, thinks himself so clever, let him go to Peshawar and learn
the truth of things. As for me, I have done the chief's bidding; it is
for him to command."

And with the air of one who had been deeply offended, Dilasah left the
council.

After he had gone, Rahmut asked Ahsan why he threw doubt on the accuracy
of the information; and when the old man confessed that he had no reason
save a distrust of Dilasah, the chief was angry. Dilasah could have no
object in bringing false information, for he was to accompany the chief
in the proposed raid, and would suffer equally with the rest if it
should fail. It was decided in the end to accept his report as accurate,
and preparations for the expedition were hurried on.

A few days later, Rahmut Khan left the village at the head of eighty
men--the pick of his own and of Minghal's warriors. Ahmed, left behind
with a score of fighting men to defend the village, watched his father's
departure with envy. How he longed that the place at the chief's right
hand had been bestowed on him instead of on Dilasah! But it was useless
to repine; he could only swallow his disappointment and hope that d