ack to
the village, listening to the man's repetition of the story of the
capture. He listened to it again in the village, where Dilasah told it
in the street, and the people made great lamentation with cries and
groans. And then, when the horsemen had dismounted and gone to their
homes, he accompanied Ahsan to his little hut, and asked the old man
what he thought of the things that had happened.

"Dilasah is a coward--that is sure," said Ahsan. "Did we not know it? He
fled away as a lark flies at the first throw. A man fights; a dog turns
tail. 'Tis an evil fate has befallen the master, and this village of
Shagpur also."

"Is Dilasah's story true, think you?" asked Ahmed.

"Without doubt it is true. A lie has no legs. Did not all the men hear
what he said? He would not say what is false in the hearing of them all,
for they would put him to shame."

"And what will become of my father?"

"Hai! that Allah knows, Ahmed-ji. Jan Larrens is a stern man, they say,
and swift to punish. The Feringhis have many ways of punishing.
Sometimes they slay with a rope; sometimes they make a man pay much
money; sometimes they hold him prisoner. Who can tell what they will do
with the master!"

"And we cannot help him, can we, Ahsan?"

"Ahuh! 'tis impossible. Peshawar is a strong city: once and twice I have
been there in my youth--before the Feringhis came. Jan Larrens is the
governor now; he has many soldiers, both Feringhis and true believers
who take their pay, like Sherdil, son of Assad. It would be like a man
beating his head against the rocks to go there and try to release the
master by force. And to buy his freedom is alike impossible. In the old
days we might have sent presents to the jailer, or to the governor of
the prison, or to the governor of the city, and if the presents were
rich enough the gates of the prison would open. But that is all changed
since the servants of Jan Kumpani came. Strange are the ways of the
Feringhis! Their eyes do not shut when one offers to put rupees in their
palms; nay, I heard of a young Feringhi at Lahore, who, when Kunwar Khan
spoke of giving him a great sum if he would buy Kunwar's mildewed grain
for the soldiers--this young Feringhi doubled his fist and smote Kunwar
in the face, and he fell backward, showing the soles of his feet. Truly
the Feringhis are a strange folk."

"Well then, Ahsan, there is but one thing to do. I shall be chief now,
and I will get more and more men about me