The Syrians had no part in that night’s doings.  They were bidden wait in the shadow of the ridge; with mules inspanned, and with Tugendheim in charge we trusted them, to guard our Turkish prisoners.  Tugendheim bit his nails and made as if to pull his mustache out by the roots, but we suffered no anxiety on his account; his safety and ours were one.  He had no alternative but to obey.

Before the moon rose we sent our unmounted men to the top of the ridge under Chatar Singh, and the rest of us rode in a circuit, through a gap that Ranjoor Singh had found, to the plain on the far side.

The Turks had driven their convoy into the desert and had camped behind them, nearly three hundred strong.  They had made one big fire and many little ones, and looked extremely cheerful, what with the smell of cooking and the dancing flame.  Their horses were picketed together in five lines with only a few guards, so that their capture was an easy matter.  We caught them entirely by surprise and fell on them from three sides at once, our foot-men from the ridge delivering such a hot fire that some of us were hit.  I looked long for the Turk who had fouled the water, and for the other one who had lanced the child’s body, but failed to identify either of them.  I found two who looked like them, crawling out from under a heap of slain, and shot them through the head; but as to whether I slew the right ones or not I do not know.

Three officers we made prisoner, making five that we had to care for.  The other officers were slain.  We never knew how few or how many Turks escaped under cover of darkness, but I suspect not more than a dozen or two at the most.  Whatever tale they told when they got home again, it is pretty certain they gave the Kurds the blame, for, how should they suppose us to be anything except Kurds?

We took no loot except the horses and rifles.  We stacked the rifles in a cart, picked the best horses, taking twenty-five spare ones with us, and gave our worst horses to the Armenians to eat.  We sent a few Syrians in a hurry to warn the Armenians in the desert against those Kurds who had ridden to the south to intercept them, and tipped out two cartsful of corn that we could ill spare, putting our wounded in the empty carts.  We had one-and-twenty wounded, many of them by our own riflemen.

Then we rode on into the night, Ranjoor Singh urging us to utmost speed.  The Armenians begged us to remain with them, or to take them with us.  Some clung to our stirrups, but we had to shake them loose.  For what could we do more than we had done for them?  Should we die with them in the desert, serving neither them nor us?  We gave them the best advice we could and rode away.  We bade them eat, and scatter, and hide.  And I hope they did.

We rode on, laughing to think that Kurds would be blamed for our doings, and wondering whether the Armenians had enough spirit left to make use of the loot we did not touch.  Some of us had lances now; a few had sabers; all had good mounts and saddles.  We were likely to miss the corn we had given away; but to offset that we had a new confidence in Ranjoor Singh that was beyond price, and I sang as I rode.  I sang the Anand, our Sikh hymn of joy.  I knew we were a regiment again at last.