"That you, Kagig? Where's Monty? Where's Lord Montdidier?"
Kagig strode into the room, set the lantern on the floor, struck the remnants of the food from off the little stool, and sat down. I could see now that he was deathly tired.
"He is in Zeitoon," he answered.
Noises from outside began then to assert themselves in demonstration that the village was awake at last—also that the population had swollen while we slept. I could hear the restless movement of more than twice the number of horses we had had with us.
Kagig began to laugh—a sort of dry cackle that included wonder as well as rebuke. He threw both hands outward, palms upward, in a gesture that complemented the motion of shoulders shrugged up to his ears.
"All around—high hills! From every side from fifty places rocks could have been rolled upon you! So—and so you sleep!"
"I set guards!" Will exploded.
"Eleven guards I found—all together in one place—fast asleep!"
He showed his splendid teeth and the palms of his hands again in actual enjoyment of the situation. For the first time then I saw there was wet blood on his goatskin coat.
"Kagig—you're wounded!"
He made a gesture of impatience.
"It is nothing—nothing. My servant has attended to it."
So Kagig had a servant. I felt glad of that. It meant a rise from vagabondage to position among his people.
