“I know the thoughts ye think!” said he, beginning again when he had given us time to answer and none had dared.  “I will give you a real thought to put in the place of all that foolishness.  This is a regiment.  I am its last surviving officer.  Any regiment can kill its officers.  If ye are weary of being a regiment, behold—­I am as near you as a man’s throat to his hand!  Have no fear”—­(that was a bitter thrust, sahib!)—­“this is a German saber; I will use no German steel on any of you.  I will not strike back if any seek to kill me.”

There was no movement and no answer, sahib.  We did not think; we waited.  If he had coaxed us with specious arguments, as surely a liar would have done, that would probably have been his last speech in the world.  But there was not one word he said that did not ring true.

“I have been made a certain offer in Berlin,” said he, after another long pause.  “First it was made to me alone, and I would not accept it.  I and my regiment, said I, are one.  So the offer was repeated to me as the leader of this regiment.  Thus they admitted I am the rightful leader of it, and the outcome of that shall be on their heads.  As major of this regiment, I accepted the offer, and as its major I now command your obedience.”

“Obedience to whom?” asked I, speaking again as it were against my will, and frightened by my own voice.

“To me,” said he.

“Not to the Germans?” I asked.  He wore a German uniform, and so for that matter did we all.

“To me,” he said again, and he took one step aside that he might see my face better.  “You, Hira Singh, you heard Colonel Kirby make over the command!”

Every man in the regiment knew that Colonel Kirby had died across my knees.  They looked from Ranjoor Singh to me, and from me to Ranjoor Singh, and I felt my heart grow first faint from dread of their suspicion, and then bold, then proud that I should be judged fit to stand beside him.  Then came shame again, for I knew I was not fit.  My loyalty to him had not stood the test.  All this time I thought I felt his eyes on me like coals that burned; yet when I dared look up he was not regarding me at all, but scanning the two lines of faces, perhaps to see if any other had anything to say.

“If I told you my plan,” said he presently, when he had cleared his throat, “you would tear it in little pieces.  The Germans have another plan, and they will tell you as much of it as they think it good for you to know.  Mark what my orders are!  Listen to this plan of theirs.  Pretend to agree.  Then you shall be given weapons.  Then you shall leave this camp within a week.”

That, sahib, was like a shell bursting in the midst of men asleep.  What did it mean?  Eyes glanced to left and right, looking for understanding and finding none, and no man spoke because none could think of anything to say.  It was on my tongue to ask him to explain when he gave us his final word on the matter—­and little enough it was, yet sufficient if we obeyed.