She leaned over and swished his charger with her little whip, and slipped past him.
He swore, deep and fiercely, as he spurred and wheeled, and cantered after her.

His great stallion could overhaul her pony in a minute, going stride for stride; the wall was more than two miles long with no break in it other than locked gates; there was no hurry.

He watched her through half-closed, glowering, appraising eyes as he cantered in her wake, admiring the frail, slight figure in the gray cotton habit, and bridling his desire to make her--seize her reins, and halt, and make her--admit him master of the situation.
As he reached her stirrup, she reined in and faced him, after a hurried glance that told her her duenna had failed her.

The old woman was invisible.
"Will you leave that body to lie there in the dust and sun ?" she asked indignantly.
"I am no vulture, or jackal, or hyena, sahiba!" he smiled.

"I do not eat carrion!" He seemed to think that that was a very good retort, for he showed his wonderful white teeth until his handsome face was the epitome of self-satisfied amusement.