Lo, there sat Tugendheim, with his hands deep in his pockets and a great cigar between his teeth.  His four guards stood with bayonets fixed, making believe to wait on him, but in truth watching him as caged wolves eye their dinner.  Ranjoor Singh was behaving almost respectfully toward him, which filled me with disgust; but presently I saw and understood.  There was a little window through which to sell tickets, and down in one corner of it the frosting had been rubbed from off the glass.

“There is an eye,” said I in an undertone, “that I could send a bullet through without difficulty!” But Ranjoor Singh called me a person without judgment and turned his back.

“When do we start?” asked Tugendheim.

“When the men have finished eating,” he answered, and at that I stared again, for I knew the men’s mood and did not believe it possible to get them away without a long rest, nor even in that case without argument.

“What if they refuse?” said I, and Ranjoor Singh faced about to look at me.

“Do you refuse?” he asked.  “Go and warn them to finish eating and be ready to march in twenty minutes!”

So I went, and delivered the message, and it was as I had expected, only worse.

“So those are his words?  What are words!” said they.  “Ask him whither he would lead us!” shouted Gooja Singh.  He had been talking in whispers with a dozen men at the rear of the middle hut.

“If I take him such dogs’ answers,” said I, “he will dismiss me and there will be no more a go-between.”

“Go, take him this message,” shouted Gooja Singh.  “But for his sinking of our ship we should now be among friends in Gallipoli!  Could we not have seized another ship and plundered coal?  Tell him, therefore, if he wishes to lead us he must use good judgment.  Are we leaves blown hither and thither for his amusement?  Nay!  We belong to the British Army!  Tell him we will march toward Gallipoli or nowhither!  We will march until opposite Gallipoli, and search for some means of crossing.”

“I will take that as Gooja Singh’s message, then,” said I.

“Nay, nay!” said he.  “That is the regiment’s message!” And the dozen men with whom he had been whispering nodded acquiescence.  “Is Gooja Singh the regiment?” I asked.

“No,” said he, “but I am of the regiment.  I am not a man running back and forth, false to both sides!”

I was not taken by surprise.  Something of that sort sooner or later I knew must come, but I would have preferred another time and place.

“Be thou go-between then, Gooja Singh!” said I.  “I accepted only under strong persuasion.  Gladly I relinquish!  Go thou, and carry thy message to Ranjoor Singh!” And I sat down in the entrance of the middle hut, as if greatly relieved of heavy burdens.  “I have finished!” I said.  “I am not even havildar!  I will request reduction to the ranks!”

For about a minute I sat while the men stared in astonishment.  Then they began to rail at me, but I shook my head.  They coaxed me, but I refused.  Presently they begged me, but I took no notice.