He took a long drink from the loving-cup of mulled wine which was passing round.
"Your mad priest has method in his folly," he said.

"It is true that we are attacking a great people; therefore the more need of wariness for you and me, Fazir Khan.

If we fail there will be the devil to pay for you.

The English will shift their frontier-line beyond the mountains, and there will be no more lifting of women and driving of cattle for the Bada-Mawidi.

You will all be sent to school, and your guns will be taken from you." The chief compressed his attractive features into a savage scowl.