, having shed the half of his blood over me. Ranjoor
Singh and I laid him along a ledge above the water and it was not
very long before a chance shell dropped near and buried him under a
ton of earth. Yes, sahib, a British shell.

Presently Ranjoor Singh waded along the trench to have word with
Captain Fellowes, who was wounded rather badly. I made busy with the
men about me, making them stand where they could see best with least
risk of exposure and ordering spade work here and there. It is a
strange thing, sahib, but I have never seen it otherwise, that spade
work--which is surely the most important thing--is the last thing
troopers will attend to unless compelled. They will comb their
beards, and decorate the trench with colored stones and draw names
in the mud, but the all-important digging waits. Sikh and Gurkha and
British and French are all alike in that respect.

When Ranjoor Singh came back from his talk with Captain Fellowes he
sent me to the right wing under our other risaldar, and after he was
killed by a grenade I was in command of the right wing of our
trench.

The three days that followed have mostly gone from memory, that
being the way of evil. If men could remember pain and misery they
would refuse to live because of the risk of more of it; but hope
springs ever anew out of wretchedness like sprouts on the burned
land, and the ashes are forgotten. I do not remember much of those
three days.

There was nothing to eat. There began to be a smell. There was worse
than nothing to drink, for thirst took hold of us, yet the water in
the trench was all pollution. The smell made us wish to vomit, yet
what could the empty do but desire? Corpses lay all around us. No,
sahib, not the dead of the night before's fighting. Have I not said
that the weather was cold? The bombardment by our own guns preceding
our attack had torn up graves that were I know not how old. When we
essayed to re-bury some bodies the Germans drove us back under
cover.

That night, and the next, several attempts were made to rush us, but
under Ranjoor Singh's command we beat them off. He was wakeful as
the stars and as unexcited. Obedience to him was so comforting that
men forgot for the time their suspicion and distrust. When dawn came
there were more dead bodies round about, and some wounded who called
piteously for help. The Germans crawled out to help their wounded,
but Ranjoor Singh bade us drive them back and we obeyed.

Then the