“This,” said Ranjoor Singh.  “We have followed them from Mosul, learning here a little and there a little.  What is it that they have with them?  Who are they?  Why were they let pass?”

“They were let pass because Wassmuss gave the order,” the Kurd answered.  “They are Germans—­six German officers, six German servants—­and Kurds—­twenty-four Kurds of the plains acting porters and camp-servants—­many mules—­two mules bearing a box slung on poles between them.”

“What was in the box?” asked Ranjoor Singh.

“Nay, I know not,” said the Kurd.

“Nevertheless,” said Ranjoor Singh, “my brother is a man with eyes and ears.  What did my brother hear?”

“They said their machine can send and receive a message from places as far apart as Khabul and Stamboul.  Doubtless they lied,” the Kurd answered.

“Doubtless!” said Ranjoor Singh.  By his slow even breathing and apparent indifference, I knew he was on a hot scent, so I tried to appear indifferent myself, although my ears burned.  The Kurds clustering around their leader listened with ears and eyes agape.  They made no secret of their interest.

“They said they are on their way to Khabul,” the Kurd continued, “there to receive messages from Europe and acquaint the amir and his ruling chiefs of the true condition of affairs.”

“How shall they reach Afghanistan?” asked Ranjoor Singh.  “Does a road through Persia lie open to them?”

“Nay,” said the Kurd.  “Persia is like a nest of hornets.  But they are to receive an escort of us Kurds to take them through Persia.  We mountain Kurds are not afraid of Persians.”

“Which Kurds are to provide the escort?” Ranjoor Singh asked him, and the Kurd shook his head.

“Nay,” he said, “that none can tell.  It is not yet agreed.  There is small competition for the task.  There are better pickings here on the border, raiding now and then, and pocketing the gold of this Wassmuss between-whiles!  Who wants the task of escorting a machine in a box to Khabul?”

“Nevertheless,” said Ranjoor Singh, “I know of a leader and his men who will undertake the task.”

“Who, then?” said the Kurd.

“I and my men!” said Ranjoor Singh; and I held my breath until I thought my lungs would burst.  “Persia!” thought I.  “Afghanistan!” thought I.  “And what beyond?”

“Ye are not Kurds,” the chief answered, after he had considered a while.  “Wassmuss said the escort must consist of three hundred Kurds or he will not pay.”

“The payment shall be arranged between me and thee!” said Ranjoor Singh.  “You shall have all the gold of this next convoy, if you will ride back to Wassmuss and agree that you and your men shall be the escort to Afghanistan.”

“Who shall guard this pass if I ride back?” the Kurd asked.

“I!” said Ranjoor Singh.  “I and my men will wait here for the gold.  Leave me a few of your men to be guides and to keep peace between us and other Kurds among these mountains.  Ride and tell Wassmuss that the gold will not come for another thirty days.”