The hooded beggar still sat upon the ground, but he was alone.

The others, the blind and the maimed, had crawled away to their dens.

Except this grim motionless man, there was no one squatting upon the ground.
Shere Ali reined in beside him, and bending forward in his saddle spoke in a low voice a few words of Pushtu.

The hooded figure did not move, but from behind the blanket there issued a muffled voice.
"If your Highness will ride slowly on, your servant will follow and come to his side." Shere Ali went on, and in a few moments he heard the soft patter of a man running barefoot along the dusty road.

He stopped his horse and the patter of feet ceased, but a moment after, silent as a shadow, the man was at his side.
"You are of my country ?" said Shere Ali.
"I am of Kohara," returned the man.