The younger men, whose sense of fitness had not yet been rotted by climate and system and prerogative, swore at the condition; there were one or two men higher up, destined to make history, whose voices, raised in emphatic protest, were drowned in the drone of “Peace!  Peace is the thing to work for.  Compromise, consideration, courtesy, these three are the keys of rule.”  They failed to realize that cowardice was their real keynote, and that the threefold method that they vaunted was quite useless without a stiffening of courage.

So brave men, who had more courtesy in each of their fingers than most of the seniors had all put together, had to bow to a scandalous condition that made England’s rule a laughing-stock within a stone’s throw of the city limits.  And they had to submit to the indecency of seeing a new, inexperienced arrival picked for the task of commanding a body of irregulars, for no other reason than because it was considered wise to make an exhibition of him.

Cunningham became half policeman, half soldier, in charge of a small special force of mounted men engaged for the purpose of patrol.  He had nothing to do with the selection of them; that business was attended to perfunctorily by a man very high up in departmental service, who considered Cunningham a nuisance.  He was a gentleman who did not know Mahommed Gunga; another thing he did not know was the comfortable feel of work well done; so he was more than pleased when Mahommed Gunga dropped in from nowhere in particular—­paid him scandalously untrue compliments without a blush or a smile and offered to produce the required number of men at once.

Only fifty were required.  Mahommed Gunga brought three hundred to select from, and, when asked to do so in order to save time and trouble, picked out the fifty best.

“There are your men!” said the Personage off-handedly, when they had been sworn in in a group.  “Be good enough to remember, Mr. Cunningham, that you are now responsible for their behavior, and for the proper night patrolling of the city limits.”

That was a tall order, and in spite of all of youth’s enthusiasm was enough to make any young fellow nervous.  But Mahommed Gunga met him in the street, saluted him with almost sacrilegious ceremony, and drew him to one side.

“Have courage, now, bahadur!  I ride away to visit my estates (he spoke of them always in the plural, as though he owned a county or two).  You have under you the best eyes and the keenest blades along the border for I attended to it!  Be ruthless!  Use them, work them—­sweat them to death!  Keep away from messes and parades; seek no praise, for you will get none in any case!  Work!  Work for what is coming!”

“You speak as though the fate of a continent were hanging in the balance,” laughed Cunningham, shaking hands with him.

“I speak truth!” said Mahommed Gunga, riding off and leaving the youngster wondering.