“Remember the oath of a Sikh!” said he.  “Remember that he who is true in his heart to his oath has Truth to fight for him!  Treachery begets treason, treason begets confusion; and who are ye to stay the course of things?  Faith begets faith; courage gives birth to opportunity!”

He paused, but we knew he had not finished yet, and he kept us waiting full three minutes wondering what would come.  Then: 

“As for your doubts,” said he.  “If the head aches, shall the body cut it off that it may think more clearly?  Consider that!” said he.  “Dismiss!”

We fell out and he marched away like a king with thoughts of state in mind.  I thought his beard was grayer than it had been, but oh, sahib, he strode as an arrow goes, swift and straight, and splendid.  Lonely as an arrow that has left the sheaf!

I had to run to catch up with him, and I was out of breath when I touched his sleeve.  He turned and waited while I thought of things to say, and then struggled to find words with which to say them.

“Sahib!” said I.  “Oh, Major sahib!” And then my throat became full of words each struggling to be first, and I was silent.

“Well?” said he, standing with both arms folded, looking very grave, but not angry nor contemptuous.

“Sahib,” I said, “I am a true man.  As I stand here, I am a true man.  I have been a fool—­I have been half-hearted—­I was like a man in the dark; I listened and heard voices that deceived me!”

“And am I to listen and hear voices, too?” he asked.

“Nay, sahib!” I said.  “Not such voices, but true words!”

“Words?” he said.  “Words!  Words!  There have already been too many words.  Truth needs no words to prove it true, Hira Singh.  Words are the voice of nothingness!”

“Then, sahib—­” said I, stammering.

“Hira Singh,” said he, “each man’s heart is his own.  Let each man keep his own.  When the time comes we shall see no true men eating shame,” said he.

And with that he acknowledged my salute, turned on his heel, and marched away.  And the great gate slammed behind him.  And German officers pressing close on either side talked with him earnestly, asking, as plainly as if I heard the words, what he had said, and what we had said, and what the outcome was to be.  I could see his lips move as he answered, but no man living could have guessed what he told them.  I never did know what he told them.  But I have lived to see the fruit of what he did, and of what he made us do; and from that minute I have never faltered for a second in my faithfulness to Ranjoor Singh.

Be attentive, sahib, and learn what a man of men is Risaldar-major Ranjoor Singh bahadur.

CHAPTER III

Shall he who knows not false from true judge treason? 
—­Eastern proverb.

You may well imagine, sahib, in the huts that night there was noise as of bees about to swarm.  No man slept.  Men flitted like ghosts from hut to hut—­not too openly, nor without sufficient evidence of stealth to keep the guards in good conceit of themselves, but freely for all that.  What the men of one hut said the men of the next hut knew within five minutes, and so on, back and forth.