Then Ranjoor Singh took most of his wet
clothes off and spread them upon the bales to dry. The German
imitated that too.
"Go to sleep if you care to," said the German. "I shall stand
watch," he added, with a dry laugh.
But if a Sikh soldier can not manage without sleep, there is nobody
on earth who can. Ranjoor Singh sat back against a bale, and the
watch resolved itself into a contest of endurance, with the end by no
means in sight.
"How long should it take that man to reach her?" asked the German.
"Who knows?" the Sikh answered.
"Perhaps three hours, perhaps a week! She is never still, and there
are those five regiments to hold in readiness."
"She is a wonderful woman," said the German.
Ranjoor Singh grunted.
"How is it that she has known of this place all this time, and yet
has never tried to meddle with us?"
"I, too, am anxious to know that!" said Ranjoor Singh.
"You are surly, my friend! You do not like this pistol? You take it
as an insult? Is that it?"
"I am thinking of those regiments, and of these grenades, and of
what I mean to do," said Ranjoor Singh.
"Let us talk it over."
"No."
"Please your self!"
They sat facing each other for hour after dreary hour, leaning back
against bales and thinking each his own thoughts. After about four
hours of it, it occurred to the German to dismantle the wireless
detonator.
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