If I fail not, then, sahib--Allah is contented when his honor stands!" Cunningham drew rein and looked him in the eyes.

Gray eyes met brown and neither flinched; each read what men of mettle only can read when they see it--the truth, the fearlessness, the thought they understand because it lives with them.

Cunningham held out his hand.
Some thirty minutes later Cunningham, Mahommed Gunga, and the five, with a much-diminished mule-train bumping in their wake, were headed westward on a dry, hot trail, while the time-expired and convalescent escort plodded south.

The escort carried word that Cunningham had heard of trouble to the west, and had turned off to investigate it..