OFFICER (confidentially to his boots).  Hell is quite full of such grandsons of just such father’s uncles; and how do I know if Private So-and-So speaks the truth about his family? (Makes to go.)

WARRIOR (swiftly removing necessary garments).  Perhaps.  But these don’t lie.  Look!  I got this ten, twelve years ago when I was quite a lad, close to the old Border, Yes, Halfa.  It was a true Snider bullet.  Feel it!  This little one on the leg I got at the big fight that finished it all last year.  But I am not lame (violent leg-exercise), not in the least lame.  See!  I run.  I jump.  I kick.  Praised be Allah!

OFFICER.  Praised be Allah!  And then?

WARRIOR (coquettishly).  Then, I shoot.  I am not a common spear-man. (Lapse into English.) Yeh, dam goo’ shot! (pumps lever of imaginary Martini).

OFFICER (unmoved).  I see.  And then?

WARRIOR (indignantly). I am come here—­after many days’ marching. (Change to childlike wheedle.) Are all the regiments full?

At this point the relative, in uniform, generally discovered himself, and if the officer liked the cut of his jib, another ‘old Mahdi’s man’ would be added to the machine that made itself as it rolled along.  They dealt with situations in those days by the unclouded light of reason and a certain high and holy audacity.

There is a tale of two Sheikhs shortly after the Reconstruction began.  One of them, Abdullah of the River, prudent and the son of a slave-woman, professed loyalty to the English very early in the day, and used that loyalty as a cloak to lift camels from another Sheikh, Farid of the Desert, still at war with the English, but a perfect gentleman, which Abdullah was not.  Naturally, Farid raided back on Abdullah’s kine, Abdullah complained to the authorities, and the Border fermented.  To Farid in his desert camp with a clutch of Abdullah’s cattle round him, entered, alone and unarmed, the officer responsible for the peace of those parts.  After compliments, for they had had dealings with each other before:  ‘You’ve been driving Abdullah’s stock again,’ said the Englishman.

‘I should think I had!’ was the hot answer.  ’He lifts my camels and scuttles back into your territory, where he knows I can’t follow him for the life; and when I try to get a bit of my own back, he whines to you.  He’s a cad—­an utter cad.’

’At any rate, he is loyal.  If you’d only come in and be loyal too, you’d both be on the same footing, and then if he stole from you, he’d catch it!’

’He’d never dare to steal except under your protection.  Give him what he’d have got in the Mahdi’s time—­a first-class flogging. You know he deserves it!’

’I’m afraid that isn’t allowed.  You have to let me shift all those bullocks of his back again.’

‘And if I don’t?’

’Then, I shall have to ride back and collect all my men and begin war against you.’