He grunted gravely.
"All martial nations expand eventually. They tell me--I have heard--
some of you Sikhs have tried Canada?"
Ranjoor Singh did not wince, though his back stiffened when the men
around him grinned; it is a sore point with the Sikhs that Canada
does not accept their emigrants.
"Sikhs are admitted into all the German colonies," said the man with
the gray eyes. "They are welcome."
"Do many go?" asked Ranjoor Singh.
"That is the point. The Sikhs want a place in the sun from which
they are barred at present--eh? Now, Germany--"
"Germany? Where is Germany?" asked Yasmini. She understands the last
trick in the art of getting a story on its way. "To the west is
England. Farther west, Ameliki. To the north lies Russia. To the
south the _kali pani_-ocean. Where is Germany?"
The man with the gray eyes took her literally, since his nation are
not slow at seizing opportunity. He launched without a word more of
preliminary into a lecture on Germany that lasted hours and held his
audience spellbound. It was colorful, complete, and it did not seem
to have been memorized. But that was art.
He had no word of blame for England. He even had praise, when praise
made German virtue seem by that much greater; and the inference from
first to last was of German super-virtue.
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