Shere Ali sat late beside his fire, nor when he went into his tent did he close his eyes.
The next morning he rode among orchards bright with apricots and mulberries, peaches and white grapes, and in another day he looked down from a high cliff, across which the road was carried on a scaffolding, upon the town of Kohara and the castle of his father rising in terraces upon a hill behind.

The nobles and their followers came out to meet him with courteous words and protestations of good will.

But they looked him over with curious and not too friendly eyes.

News had gone before Shere Ali that the young Prince of Chiltistan was coming to Kohara wearing the dress of the White People.

They saw that the news was true, but no word or comment was uttered in his hearing.