In the first place, the wounded had been suffering severely from the
long forced marches and the jolting of the springless carts. Some of
them had died, and the Greek doctor had grown very anxious for his
own skin. Ranjoor Singh summoned him and listened to great
explanations and excuses, finally gravely permitting him to live,
but adding solemn words of caution. Then he ordered the carts
abandoned, for there was now no road at all. The forty Turkish
soldiers (in their Syrian clothes) were made to carry the wounded in
stretchers we improvised, until some got well and some died; those
who did not carry wounded were made to carry ammunition, and some of
our own men who had tried to disregard Ranjoor Singh's strict orders
regarding women of the country were made to help them. That
arrangement lasted until we came to a village where the Kurds were
willing to exchange mules against the rifles we had taken from the
Kurds, one mule for one rifle, we refusing to part with any
cartridges.

After that the wounded had to ride on mules, some of them two to a
mule, holding each other on, and the cartridge boxes were packed on
the backs of other mules, except that men who tried to make free
with native women were invariably ordered to relieve a mule. Then we
had no further use for the forty Turks, so we turned them loose with
enough food to enable them to reach Diarbekr if they were
economical. They went off none too eagerly in their Syrian clothes,
and I have often wondered whether they ever reached their
destination, for the Kurds of those parts are a fierce people, and
it is doubtful which they would rather ill-treat and kill, a Turk or
a Syrian. The Turks have taught them to despise Armenians and
Syrians, but they despise Turks naturally. (All this I learned from
Abraham, who often marched beside me.)

"Those Turks we have released will go back and set their people on
our trail," said Gooja Singh, overlooking no chance to throw
discredit.

"If they ever get safely back, that is what I hope they will do!"
Ranjoor Singh answered. "We will disturb hornets and pray that Turks
get stung!"

He would give no explanation, but it was not long before we all
understood. Little by little, he was admitting us to confidence in
those days, never telling at a time more than enough to arouse
interest and hope.

Rather than have him look like a Turk any longer, we had dressed up
Abraham in the uniform of one of our dead troopers; and whe