"Gone whither?" he asked.
"Whither?"
Ismail's voice was eloquent of shocked surprise.
"They followed! Was it then thy baggage on the other mules? Were they thy men? They led the mules and went!"
"Who ordered them?"
"Allah! Need the night be ordered to follow the Day?"
"Who told them whither to go?"
"Who told the moon where the night was?" Ismail answered.
"And thou?"
"I am thy man! She bade me be thy man!"
"And these?"
"Try them!"
King bethought him of his wrist, that was heavy with the weight of gold on it. He drew back his sleeve and held it up.
"May God be with thee!" boomed all five men at once, and the Khyber night gave back their voices, like the echoing of a well.
King took his reins and mounted.
"What now?" asked Ismail, picking up the leather bag that he regarded as his own particular charge.
"Forward!" said King. "Come along!"
He began to set a fairly fast pace, Ismail leading the spare horse and the others towing the mules along. Except for King, who was modern and out of the picture, they looked like Old Testament patriarchs, hurrying out of Egypt, as depicted in the illustrated Bibles of a generation ago—all leaning forward—each man carrying a staff—and none looking to the right or left.
After a time the moon rose and looked at them from over a distant ridge that was thousands of feet higher than the ragged fringe of Khyber wall. The little mangy jackals threw up their heads to howl at it; and after that there was pale light diffused along the track, and they could see so well that King set a faster pace, and they breathed hard in the effort to keep up. He did not draw rein until it was nearly time for the Pass to begin narrowing and humping upward to the narrow gut at Ali Masjid. But then he halted suddenly. The jackals had ceased howling, and the very spirit of the Khyber seemed to hold its breath and listen.
In that shuddersome ravine unusual sounds will rattle along sometimes from wall to wall and gully to gully, multiplying as they go, until night grows full of thunder. So it was now that they heard a staccato cannonade—not very loud yet, but so quick, so pulsating, so filling to the ears that he could judge nothing about the sound at all, except that whatever caused it must be round a corner out of sight.
