ugh at the time I felt ashamed.

Presently Ranjoor Singh himself chose an advance guard of twenty men
and put me in command of it.

"March eastward," he ordered me. "According to my map, you should
find a road within a mile or two running about northeast and
southwest; turn to the left along it. Halt if you see armed men, and
send back word. Keep a lookout for food, for the men are starving,
but loot nothing without my order! March!" said he.

"May I ask a question, sahib," said I, still lingering.

"Ask," said he.

"Would you truly have burned the German alive?" said I, and he
laughed.

"That would have been a big fire," said he. "Do you think none would
have come to investigate?"

"That is what I was thinking," said I.

"Do such thoughts burn your brain?" said he. "A threat to a bully--to
a fool, folly--to a drunkard, drink--to each, his own! Be going
now!"

So I saluted him and led away, wondering in my heart, the weather
growing worse, if that were possible, but my spirits rising. I knew
now that my back was toward Gallipoli, where the nearest British
were, yet my heart felt bold with love for Ranjoor Singh and I did
not doubt we would strike a good blow yet for our friends, although
I had no least idea who Wassmuss was, nor whither we were marching.
If I had known--eh, but listen, sahib--this is a tale of tales!

CHAPTER V

If a man stole my dinner, I might let him run; but if he stole my
horse, he and I and death would play hide-and-seek!--RANJOOR SINGH

That dawn, sahib, instead of lessening, the rainstorm grew into a
deluge that saved us from being seen. As I led my twenty men forward
I looked back a time or two, and once I could dimly see steamers and
some smaller boats tossing on the sea. Then the fiercest gust of
rain of all swept by like a curtain, and it was as if Europe had
been shut off forever--so that I recalled Gooja Singh's saying on
the transport in the Red Sea, about a curtain being drawn and our
not returning that way. My twenty men marched numbly, some seeming
half-asleep.

By and by, with heels sucking in the mud, we came to the road of
which Ranjoor Singh had spoken and I turned along it. It had been
worn into ruts and holes by heavy traffic and now the rain made
matters worse, so we made slow progress. But before long I was able
to make out dimly through the storm what looked like a railway
station. There was a line of telegraph poles, and where it crossed
our road