“Before we can receive a message we shall send one,” said the German.  “Before I came out to meet you, I gave the order to get in touch with Constantinople and signal this:  That we are being interfered with and our lives are endangered on neutral territory by troops belonging to British India, and therefore that all British Indian prisoners-of-war in Germany should be made hostages for our safety.  That means,” he went on, “that unless we signal every day that all is well, a number of your countrymen in Germany corresponding to the number of my party will be lined up against a wall and shot.”

“So that message has been sent?” asked Ranjoor Singh.

“Yes,” said the German.

“Then send this message also,” said Ranjoor Singh:  “That the end has certainly come.  Then close up your machine because unless you wish to fight for your existence there will be no more messages sent or received by you between here and Afghanistan.”

I thought that a strange message for Ranjoor Singh to bid him send.  I did not believe that one of us, however weary, was willing to accept relief at the price of our friends’ lives.  Nevertheless, I said nothing, having learned it is not wise to draw too swift conclusions when Ranjoor Singh directs the strategy.

But the German evidently thought so, too, for his eyes looked startled, and I took comfort from that.

“I understand you wish to reach Afghanistan?” asked Ranjoor Singh.

“That is our eventual destination,” said the German.

“Very well,” said Ranjoor Singh.  “Pack up your machine.  Then I will permit your journey to the Afghan border, unhampered by me, on two conditions.”

“What two conditions?” asked the German.

“That your machine shall remain packed up until you reach Afghanistan, and that your doctor shall divide his services until then equally between your men and mine.”

“And after that, what?” asked the German.

“I have nothing to do with Afghanistan,” said Ranjoor Singh.  “Keep the bargain and you are free as far as I am concerned to do what you like when you get there.”

So we had a doctor again at last, for the German agreed to the terms.  Not one of us but needed medical aid, and the men were too glad to have their hurts attended, to ask very many questions; but they were certainly surprised, and suspicious of the new arrangement, and I did not dare tell them what I had overheard for fear lest suspicion of Ranjoor Singh be reawakened.  I refused even to tell the other daffadars, which caused some slight estrangement between them and me.  However, Ranjoor Singh was as conscious of that risk as I, and during all the rest of the long march he kept their camp and ours, their column and ours half an hour’s ride apart—­ sometimes even farther—­sometimes half a day apart, to the disgust of the doctor, who had that much more trouble, but with the result of preventing greater friction.