And now let us go to the serai, for I
would fain eat, having some few pice to pay withal. But stay, friend,
canst tell me whether among all these soldiers here there are those that
serve one Lumsden Sahib? I have a friend among them I should like to
see."

"No, they are not here, but at Hoti-Mardan, two days' march towards the
north-east. Two days, I say; but with this horse of yours you could get
there in one. What is your friend's name?"

"Sherdil. Do you know him?"

"No. Well, we will go into the bazar and get food, and then I will put
you in the way for Hoti-Mardan. But if you think to become one of those
Guides of Lumsden Sahib yourself, 'twill be a waste of time; for there
be many now waiting to put on the khaki for whom there is no room. Hai!
I do not understand it; I am a swordsmith and will make swords for them,
receiving a fair price, but Allah forbid I should ever give up my
freedom to serve the sahibs."

He trudged beside Ahmed into the town again, chattering all the way.
They had a simple meal together, Ahmed keeping a watchful eye on his
horse tethered at the door; and then the swordsmith took his leave, with
a sententious maxim by way of parting counsel.

"Friends are serpents: they bite. Strangers are best. May God go with
you."

After resting a while, Ahmed set off on his ride to Hoti-Mardan, the
head-quarters of the Guides. He had always intended to visit Sherdil,
and see for himself whether his position was so ignominious as his
father Assad had made out. But now, as he left the suburban gardens of
Peshawar behind, and came into the wide sandy plain, over which he must
ride for thirty miles or more, other ideas came into his mind. Jan
Larrens had said that he had no claim on the Government of the Panjab:
that was true; but what if he should establish a claim? What if he could
do something for the sahibs as a Pathan, and so not merely attain a
position in which he might serve his father, but also prove his right to
the name of Englishman? It was clear that he could not go back to
Shagpur; he was surprised to find himself glad that he could not. New
feelings were springing within him. To be chief of Shagpur seemed no
very desirable thing; to win his title of Englishman, to prove himself
worthy to stand among these white men, who ruled, not villages, but
empires--this seemed to him a goal worth striving towards.

And how could it be accomplished? The obvious answer to the question
was: Join the