It was evening of the fourth day when a Rangar woke him, squeezing at
his foot and standing silent by the cot.

"Huzoor--Mahommed Gunga comes!"

"Thank God!"

He ran to the parapet and watched in the fading light a little dust
cloud that followed no visible track but headed straight toward them
over desert.

"How d'you know that's Mahommed Gunga?" he demanded.

"Who else, huzoor? Who else would ride from that direction all alone and
straight for this nest of wasps? Who else but Alwa or Mahommed Gunga?
Alwa said he would not come, but would wait yonder."

"It might be one of Alwa's men."

"We have many good men, sahib--and many good horses--but no man or horse
who could come at that pace after traversing those leagues of desert!
That is Mahommed Gunga, unless a new fire-eater has been found. And what
new man would know the way?"

Soon--staccato, like a drum-beat in the silence--came the welcome,
thrilling cadence of the horse's hoofs--the steady thunder of a
horse hard-ridden but not foundered. The sun went down and blackness
supervened, but the sound increased, as one lone rider raced with the
evening wind, head on.

It seemed like an hour before the lookout challenged from the crag that
overhung the gate--before the would-be English words rang out; and all
Asia and its jackals seemed to wait in silence for the answer.

"Howt-uh! Hukkums-thar!"

"Ma--hommed--Gunga--hai!"

"Hurrah!"

The cheer broke bonds from the depth of Cunningham's being, and Mahommed
Gunga heard it on the plain below. There was a rush to man the wheels
and sweat the gate up, and Cunningham started to run down the zigzag
pathway. He thought better of it, though, and waited where the path gave
out onto the courtyard, giving the signal with the cords for the gate to
lower away again.

"Evening, Mahommed Gunga!" he said, almost casually, as the weary
charger's nose appeared above the rise.

"Salaam, bahadur!"

He dismounted and saluted and then leaned against his horse.

"I wonder, sahib, whether the horse or I be weariest! Of your favor,
water, sahib!"

Cunningham brought him water in a dipper, and the Rajput washed his
horse's mouth out, then held out the dipper again to Cunningham for
fresh charge for himself.

"I would not ask the service, sahib, but for the moment my head reels. I
must rest before I ride again."

"Is all well, Mahommed Gunga?"

"Ay, sahib! More than well!"

"The men are ready?"

"Horsed, armed, a