was the
laughingstock of all. Then he looked at the chief.

"Am I your prisoner?" he asked hoarsely.

"Nay," said the other good-humouredly, "thou art free. We have
over-much work on hand to-day to be saddled with captives."

"Then where is Nazri?" he asked.

The chief laughed a loud laugh of tolerant amusement. "Hear to the bold
one," he cried. "He will not miss the great spectacle. See, I will
show you the road," and he pointed out certain landmarks. "For one of
my own people it is a journey of four hours; for thee it will be
something more. But hurry, and haply the game will not have begun. If
the northern men take thee I will buy thy life."

Four hours; the words rang in his brain like a sentence. He had no
hope, but a wild craving to attempt the hopeless. George might have
returned to Nazri to wait; it was the sort of docile thing that George
would do. In any case not five miles from Nazri was the end of the
north road and a little telegraph hut used by the Khautmi forts. The
night would be full moonlight; and by night the army would come. His
watch had been stolen, but he guessed by the heavens that it was some
two hours after noon. Five hours would bring him to Nazri at six, in
another he might be at the hut before the wires were severed. It was a
crazy chance, but it was his all, and meanwhile these grinning tribesmen
were watching him like some curious animal. They had talked to him
freely to mock his feebleness. His dominant wish was to escape from
their sight.

He turned to the descent. "I am going to Nazri," he said.

The chief held out his pistol. "Take your little weapon. We have no
need of such things when great matters are on hand. Allah speed you,
brother! A sure foot and a keen eye may bring you there in time for the
sport." And, still laughing, he turned to enter the hut.

CHAPTER XXX

EVENING IN THE HILLS

The airless heat of afternoon lay on the rocks and dry pastures. The
far snow-peaks, seen for a moment through a rift in the hills, shimmered
in the glassy stillness. No cheerful sound of running water filled the
hollows, for all was parched and bare with the violence of intemperate
suns and storms. Soon he was out of sight and hearing of the village,
travelling in a network of empty watercourses, till at length he came to
the long side of mountain which he knew of old as the first landmark of
the way. A thin ray of hope began to break up his despair. He knew now
the exact distanc