e we thought him an example of Sikh honor. Now only
I and our British officers believed in him.

We are light cavalry. We were first of all the Indian regiments to
ride out of Delhi and entrain at a station down the line. That was
an honor, and the other squadrons rode gaily, but D Squadron hung
its head. I heard men muttering in the ranks and some I rebuked to
silence, but my rebukes lightened no man's heart. In place of
Ranjoor Singh rode Captain Fellowes, promoted from another squadron,
and noticing our lack of spirit, he did his best to inspire us with
fine words and manly bearing; but we felt ashamed that our own Sikh
major was not leading us, and did not respond to encouragement.

Yet when we rode out of Delhi Gate it was as if a miracle took
place. A stiffening passed along the squadron. A trooper caught
sight of Ranjoor Singh standing beside some bullock carts, and
passed the word. I, too, saw him. He was with a Muhammadan bunnia,
and was dressed to resemble one himself.

The trooper who was first to see him--a sharp-eyed man--he died at
Ypres--Singh means lion, sahib--now recognized the man who stood
with him. "That bunnia," said he, "is surely none other than the
European who gave us the newspaper clippings about Sikhs not allowed
to land in Canada. See--he is disguised like a fool. Are the police
asleep," said he, "that such thieves dare sun themselves?"

It was true enough, sahib. The man in disguise was German, and we
remembered again that Ranjoor Singh knew German. From that moment we
rode like new men--I, too, although I because I trusted Ranjoor
Singh now more than ever; they, because they trusted no longer at
all, and he can shoulder what seem certainties whom doubt unmans. No
word, but a thought that a man could feel passed all down the line,
that whatever our officer might descend to being, the rank and file
would prove themselves faithful to the salt. Thenceforward there was
nothing in our bearing to cause our officers anxiety.

You might wonder, sahib, why none broke ranks to expose both men on
the spot. I did not because I trusted Ranjoor Singh. I reasoned he
would never have dared be seen by us if he truly were a traitor. It
seemed to me I knew how his heart must burn to be riding with us.
They did not because they would not willingly have borne the shame.
I tell no secret when I say there has been treason in the Punjab;
the whole world knows that. Yet few understand that the cloak under
whi