“Twenty of ’em,” said Dravot, placidly.

“Twenty of ’em, and ammunition to correspond,
under the whirligigs and the mud
dolls.”

“Heaven help you if you are caught with
those things!” I said. “A Martini is worth
her weight in silver among the Pathans.”

“Fifteen hundred rupees of capital—every
rupee we could beg, borrow, or steal—are
invested on these two camels,” said Dravot.
“We won’t get caught. We’re going through
the Khaiber with a regular caravan. Who’d
touch a poor mad priest?”

“Have you got everything you want?”
I asked, overcome with astonishment.

“Not yet, but we shall soon. Give us a
momento of your kindness, Brother. You
did me a service yesterday, and that time in
Marwar. Half my Kingdom shall you have,
as the saying is.” I slipped a small charm
compass from my watch-chain and handed
it up to the priest.

“Good-by,” said Dravot, giving me his
hand cautiously. “It’s the last time we’ll