e is no accounting for a soldier's
moods, and something told him--something deep down inside him that he
could neither name nor understand--that he was out now on the adventure
of a lifetime, and that the heart-cord which had held him tight to
England all these years had been cut. He felt gloomy and dispirited, but
not a man of the nine who followed him had the slightest inkling of it.

He halted them outside the guardroom, and bullydamned two of them
because some unimportant part of their accouterments was missing; and
he "'Tshuned" them, and stood them at ease, and "'Tshuned" them again,
until he had them jumping at the word. Then he marched them two abreast
in and out among the huts in search of any sign of native servants. They
found no sign of any one at all. Though in that black darkness it would
have been quite possible for half a hundred men to lie undetected. Brown
decided that the camp was empty. He thought it probable that any one
concealed there would have tried his luck on somebody at least, at close
range as he passed.

So he marched them back to the guard-room once again, and sent two
of them in to drag out the shivering Beluchi, who had taken cover
underneath a cot and refused to come out until he was dragged out by the
leg. The native's terror served to pull the men together quite a little,
for Tommy Atkins always does and always did behave himself with pride
when what he is pleased to consider his inferiors are anywhere about.
They showed that unfortunate Beluchi how white men marched into the
darkness--best foot foremost; without halt or hesitation, when ghosts or
murderers or unseen marksmen were close at hand.

The Beluchi let himself be dragged, trembling, between two of them. It
was he who first saw something move, or heard some one breathe. For he
was absolutely on edge, and had nothing to attend to but his own fear.
The others had to keep both eyes and ears lifting, to please Brown the
exacting. The Beluchi struggled and held back, almost breaking loose,
and actually tearing his loin-cloth.

"Sahib!" he whispered hoarsely. "Sahib!"

"What is it?" demanded Brown, scarcely waiting for an answer, though.
Something told him what it was that moved, and his own skin felt
goose-fleshy from neck to heel.

"The fakir, sahib!"

There was a murmur through the ranks, a sibilant indrawing of the
breath.

"Did I hear anybody swear?" asked Brown.

Nobody answered him. All nine men stood stock-still,