"Oh, brother," shouted the orderly, "who
art thou and whence comest and whither goest?" "I am Bahaud-din Khan,"
replied the horseman, "and I come from Ali Musjid, which the Feringhis
have taken, and I follow those sons of pigs, the Kasilbash Horse, who
you saw pass in such a hurry just now."
"The Sahib says," shouted the orderly, "that surely you must be mad
thus to walk your horse through a heavy fire like that."
"Not mad, tell the Sahib," replied the Afghan, "but fearing no man; and
I shook my sword at you, and your hundreds of rifles, to show that I
cared not that much for you."
"By Jove, he's a brave fellow!" said Jenkins; "tell him to come up and
have a talk with me."
"By all means," was the cheery reply; and dismounting quietly, the man
tied his horse to a bush, slipped his sword into its scabbard, and
strolled up the hill.
"Well, now tell me all about yourself," was Jenkins's greeting.
"There is nothing much to tell. I live in Kabul and belong to the
Kasilbash Horse, and my father was a soldier before me. But he was a
brave fellow like myself; we are no mis-begotten apes, like those sons
of perdition who fled just now. They are all cowards and runaways, and
no fit company for a warrior."
Jenkins liked the look of the man, and his courage was beyond doubt, so
he said cordially: "You're a fine fellow and I like you. Will you take
on with the Guides?"
"Yes, I will," said the free-lance without a moment's hesitation.
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