or, a brave devoted man. As
usual, what kept the flag flying and gave ultimate victory to the
immeasurably weaker side was the spirit, the personality, the force, the
power, of one man.

To Captain Malet-Marsac this was a revelation. Even to him, who knew
John Robin Ross-Ellison well, and had known and studied him for some
time at Duri and elsewhere, it was a wonderful thing to see how the
quiet, curious, secretive man (albeit a fine athlete, horseman and
adventurous traveller) stepped suddenly into the fierce light of supreme
command in time of war, a great, uncompromising, resourceful ruler of
men, skilful strategist and tactician, remarkable both as organizer,
leader, and personal fighter.

Did he _ever_ sleep? Night after night he penetrated into the city
disguised as a Pathan (a disguise he assumed with extraordinary skill
and which he strengthened by a perfect knowledge of many Border dialects
as well as of Pushtoo), or else personally led some night attack, sally,
reconnaissance or foraging expedition. Day after day he rode out on
Zuleika with the few mounted men at his command, scouting,
reconnoitring, gleaning information, attacking and slaughtering small
parties of marauders as occasion offered.

From him the professional soldier, his adjutant, learned much, and
wondered where his Commandant had learned all he had to teach. Captain
Malet-Marsac owned him master, his military as well as his official
superior, and grew to feel towards him as his immediate followers felt
toward Napoleon--to love him with a devoted respect, a respecting
devotion. He recognized in him the born guerrilla leader--and more, the
trained guerrilla leader, and wondered where on earth this strange
civilian had garnered his practical military knowledge and skill.

Wherever he went on foot, especially when he slipped out of the Prison
for dangerous spy-work among the forces of the mutineers, rebels,
rioters and _budmashes_ of the city, he was followed by his servant, an
African, concerning whom Colonel Ross-Ellison had advised the servants
of the Officers' Mess to be careful and also to bear in mind that he was
not a _Hubshi_. Only when the Colonel rode forth on horseback was he
separated from this man who, when the Colonel was in his room,
invariably slept across the door thereof.

On night expeditions, the Somali would be disguised, sometimes as a
leprous beggar, as stable-boy, again as an Arab, sometimes as a renegade
sepoy from a