There were whole trains of trucks drawn up in the street beside the dock and we imagined we were to be hurried at once toward the fighting.  But not so, for the horses needed rest and exercise and proper food before they could be fit to carry us.  Moreover, there were stores to be offloaded from the ships, we having brought with us many things that it would not be so easy to replace in a land at war.  Whatever our desire, we were forced to wait, and when we had left the ship we were marched through the streets to a camp some little distance out along the Estagus Road.  Later in the day, and the next day, and the next, infantry from the other ships followed us, for they, too, had to wait for their stores to be offloaded.

The French seemed surprised to see us.  They were women and children for the most part, for the grown men had been called up.  In our country we greet friends with flowers, but we had been led to believe that Europe thinks little of such manners.  Yet the French threw flowers to us, the little children bringing arms full and baskets full.

Thenceforward, day after day, we rode at exercise, keeping ears and eyes open, and marveling at France.  No man complained, although our very bones ached to be on active service.  And no man spoke of Ranjoor Singh, who should have led D Squadron.  Yet I believe there was not one man in all D Squadron but thought of Ranjoor Singh all the time.  He who has honor most at heart speaks least about it.  In one way shame on Ranjoor Singh’s account was a good thing, for it made the whole regiment watchful against treachery.

Treachery, sahib—­we had yet to learn what treachery could be!  Marseilles is a half-breed of a place, part Italian, part French.  The work was being chiefly done by the Italians, now that all able-bodied Frenchmen were under arms.  And Italy not yet in the war!

Sahib, I swear to you that all the spies in all the world seemed at that moment to be Italian, and all in Marseilles at once!  There were spies among the men who brought our stores.  Spies who brought the hay.  Spies among the women who walked now and then through our lines to admire, accompanied by officers who were none too wide-awake if they were honest.  You would not believe how many pamphlets reached us, printed in our tongue and some of them worded very cunningly.

There were men who could talk Hindustanee who whispered to us to surrender to the Germans at the first opportunity, promising in that case that we shall be well treated.  The German kaiser, these men assured us, had truly turned Muhammadan; as if that were anything to Sikhs, unless perhaps an additional notch against him!  I was told they mistook the Muhammadans in another camp for Sikhs, and were spat on for their pains!