he
Koran and said the prayers the mullah had taught him; in nothing did he
fall short of the observances required of good Mohammedans. In the early
days of his life in Shagpur, when he went tearfully to bed, he had
repeated the little prayers learnt at his mother's knee; but in the long
years since then, during which he had heard no word of English spoken
around him, these English prayers had slipped from him. It was absurd to
suppose that when he became chief he would try to turn the people to a
religion of which he knew nothing. He could not but think that Ahsan's
fears were groundless, and when next day Dilasah met him with a frank
smile, and, after a word of commiseration of the unhappy fate of Rahmut
Khan, addressed him with apparent cordiality as the new chief, he ran to
tell Ahsan that he was quite mistaken.

There was sorrow in the village at the loss of Rahmut Khan. The people
were proud of him, and with shrill cries called down maledictions on the
Feringhis. But no one spoke of attempting anything on his behalf;
Ahsan's views on that matter were shared by them all. Dilasah led the
way in professions of loyalty to Ahmed, much to the wonderment of the
old gate-keeper. Ahsan watched him narrowly. He did not believe in his
sincerity, and yet could see no object in his feigning a loyalty he did
not feel. And it was not until some days had passed that a light flashed
upon him. Though Dilasah agreed with the rest of the men that it was
impossible to rescue the old chief, he said that it was surely desirable
that an attempt should be made to discover his fate. And at that, Assad,
the father of Sherdil, offered to make the journey to Peshawar to
inquire.

"Who better than I?" he said. "Sherdil, my son, is a great man among the
Feringhis; it is a good thing that I, his father, should visit him and
see with my own eyes the greatness that has come to him. Without doubt
he will be in Peshawar or some place near at hand; it will be easy for
me to find him, and he will assuredly know what has become of our
master. I will go to Peshawar, and bring back news of the chief, and
also, I doubt not, some manifest tokens of the estimation in which my
son is held."

This offer he made to Ahmed in the presence of Dilasah, and the latter
strongly urged its acceptance. Accordingly, two days after the return of
the luckless expedition, Assad set off disguised as a mendicant, to
escape all danger of being snapped up by a hostile tribe