_Bass!_"
The general stood as still on his square foot of floor as did
Ranjoor Singh on his. It was the fact that he did not flinch and did
not strut about, but stood in one spot with his arms behind him that
confirmed Ranjoor Singh in his reading of the general's eye.
"You may leave the house, then, and take your trooper. I accept your
promise. Before you go, though, I'll tell you something. The ordering
of troops for the front--for France--is in my hands. Your regiment
is slated for to-morrow. But it can't go unless you'll see this
through. The whole regiment will be needed, instead, to mount guard
over Delhi."
"The regiment is to go, sahib, and my squadron, and--and I not? I am
not to go?"
"That is the sacrifice you are asked to make!"
"Have I made no sacrifices for the Raj? How has my life been spent?
Sahib----"
The Sikh's voice broke and he ceased speaking, but the general, too,
seemed at a loss for words.
"Sahib--do I understand? If I do this--this rat-business, whatever
it is--Colonel Kirby and the regiment go, and another leads my
squadron? And unless I do this, whatever it is, the regiment will not
go?"
The general nodded. He felt and looked ashamed.
"Has war been declared, sahib?"
"Yes. Germany has invaded Belgium."
For a second the Sikh's eyes blazed, but the fire died down again.
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