"A Persian! A cursed heretic!" A look of pained surprise was the best retort I could accomplish; but Narayan Singh came to the rescue again.

He thumped a fist on his chest as if it were a drum, and glared indignantly.
"Would I, a Pathan of the Orakzai, demean myself by being servant to a Persian ?" he demanded.

"Lo! We bring gifts.

What manner of desert man are you that reward us with insults!" "Peace!" I said.

"Peace!" remembering the Sikh's counsel about the middle course I should pursue.