“Let Gooja Singh be your messenger!” said I. And at that they turned on Gooja Singh, and some of them went and dragged him forward, he resisting with arms and feet.  They set him down before me.

“Say the word,” said they, “and he shall be beaten!”

So I got on my feet again and asked whether they were soldiers or monkey-folk, to fall thus suddenly on one of their number, and he a superior.  I bade them loose Gooja Singh, and I laid my hand on his shoulder, helping him to his feet.

“Are we many men with many troubles, or one regiment?” said I.

At that most of them grew ashamed, and those who had assaulted Gooja Singh began to make excuses, but he went back to the rear to the men who had whispered with him.  They drew away, and he sat in silence apart, I rejoicing secretly at his discomfiture but fearful nevertheless.

“Now!” said I.  “Appoint another man to wait on Ranjoor Singh!”

But they cried out, “Nay!  We will have none but you.  You have done well—­we trust you—­we are content!”

I made much play of unwillingness, but allowed them to persuade me in the end, yielding a little at a time and gaining from them ever new protestations of their loyalty until at last I let them think they had convinced me.

“Nevertheless,” said they, “tell Ranjoor Singh he must lead us toward Gallipoli!” They were firm on that point.

So I went back to the waiting-room and told Ranjoor Singh all that had happened, omitting nothing, and he stood breaking pieces from a loaf of bread, with his fingers, not burying his teeth into the loaf as most of us had done.  He asked me the names of the men who had so spoken and I told him, he repeating them and considering each name for a moment or two.

“Have they finished eating?” he asked at last, and I told him they had as good as finished.  So he ate his own bread faster.

“Come,” he ordered presently, beckoning to Tugendheim and the four guards to follow.

It was raining as hard as ever as we crossed the station yard, and the men had excuse enough for disliking to turn out.  Yet they scented development, I think, and none refused, although they fell in just not sullenly enough to call for reprimand.  Ranjoor Singh drew the roll from his inner pocket and they all answered to their names.  Then, without referring to the list again, he named those who I had told him used high words to me, beginning at Gooja Singh and omitting none.

“Fall out!” he ordered.  And when they had obeyed, “Fall in again over there on the left!”

There were three-and-twenty of them, Gooja Singh included, and they glared at me.  So did others, and I wondered grimly how many enemies I had made.  But then Ranjoor Singh cleared his throat and we recognized again the old manner that had made a squadron love him to the death at home in India—­the manner of a man with good legs under him and no fear in his heart.  All but the three-and-twenty forgot forthwith my part in the matter.