at hand.  Nevertheless, they were very careful to set sentries on all the rocks all about, and they gave us no ground for thinking we might take them by surprise.  Seeing they outnumbered us, and we had to spare a guard for our prisoners and hostages, and that fifty of our force were Syrians and therefore not much use, I felt doubtful.  I thought Ranjoor Singh felt doubtful, too, until I saw him glance repeatedly behind and study the sky.  Then I began to hope as furiously as he.

The Turks down on the plain were studying the sky, too.  We could see them fix bayonets and make little trenches about the tents.  Another party of them gathered stones with which to re-enforce the tent pegs, and in every other way possible they made ready against one of those swift, sudden storms that so often burst down the sides of mountains.  Most of us had experienced such storms a dozen times or more in the foot-hills of our Himalayas, and all of us knew the signs.  As evening fell the sky to our rear grew blacker than night itself and a chill swept down the defile like the finger of death.

“Repack the camp,” commanded Ranjoor Singh.  “Stow everything in the cave.”

There was grumbling, for we had all looked forward to a warm night’s rest.

“To-night your hearts must warm you!” he said, striding to and fro to make sure his orders were obeyed.  It was dark by the time we had finished, Then he made us fall in, in our ragged overcoats—­aye, ragged, for those German overcoats had served as coats and tents and what-not, and were not made to stand the wear of British ones in any case—­unmounted he made us fall in, at which there was grumbling again.

“Ye shall prove to-night,” he said, “whether ye can endure what mules and horses never could!  Warmth ye shall have, if your hearts are true, but the man who can keep dry shall be branded for a wizard!  Imagine yourselves back in Flanders!”

Most of us shuddered.  I know I did.  The wind had begun whimpering, and every now and then would whistle and rise into a scream.  A few drops of heavy rain fell.  Then would come a lull, while we could feel the air grow colder.  Our Flanders experience was likely to stand us in good stead.

Tugendheim and the Syrians were left in charge of our belongings.  There was nothing else to do with them because the Syrians were in more deathly fear of the storm than they ever had been of Turks.  Nevertheless, we did not find them despicable.  Unmilitary people though they were, they had inarched and endured and labored like good men, but certain things they seemed to accept as being more than men could overcome, and this sort of storm apparently was one of them.  We tied the mules and horses very carefully, because we did not believe the Syrians would stand by when the storm began, and we were right.  Tugendheim begged hard to be allowed to come with us, but Ranjoor Singh would not let him.  I don’t know why, but I think he suspected Tugendheim of knowing something about the German officers who were ahead of us, in which case Tugendheim was likely to risk anything rather than continue going forward; and, having promised him to the Kurdish chief, it would not have suited Ranjoor Singh to let him escape into Turkey again.