The advance-guard halted and added words to the torrent. Colonel
Kirby caught up the advance-guard and halted, too.
"Does he look like a man who commands a loyal regiment?" asked
Ranjoor Singh; and the German studied the bowed head and thoughtful
angle of a man who at that minute was regretting his good friend the
risaldar-major.
"You will note that he looks chastened!"
The German nodded.
In his own good time Ranjoor Singh ran out and helped with that long
stick of his to straighten out the mess; then in thirty seconds the
wheels were unlocked again and the carts moving in a hurry to the
roadside. The advance-guard moved on, and Kirby followed. Then, troop
by troop, the whole of Outram's Own rode by, and the German began to
wonder. It seemed to him that the rest of the officers were not
demure enough, although he admitted to himself that the enigmatic
Eastern faces in the ranks might mean anything at all. He noted that
there was almost no talking, and he took that for a good sign for
Germany.
D Squadron came last of all, and convinced him. They rode
regretfully, as men who missed their squadron leader, and who, in
spite of a message from him, would have better loved to see him
riding on their flank.
But Ranjoor Singh stepped out into the road, and the right-end man
of the front four recognized him.
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