And I satisfied myself the puffiness was due to neither splint nor ring-bone before I answered.
There was just a little glimmer of the false dawn, and what with that and the dying fires we could all see well enough.

I could see trouble--out of both eyes.
"Whither rides Ranjoor Singh ?" they demanded.
"Whither we follow!" said I, binding a strip from a Syrian's loin-cloth round the horse's leg.

(What use had the Syrian for it now that he wore uniform?
And it served the horse well.) A trooper took me by the shoulder and drew me upright.

At another time he should have been shot for impudence, but I had learned a lesson from Ranjoor Singh too recently to let temper get the better of me.
"Thou art afraid!" said I."Thy hand on my shoulder trembles!" The man let his hand fall and laughed to show himself unafraid.
Before he could think of an answer, twenty others had thrust him aside and confronted me.
"Whither rides Ranjoor Singh?
Whither does he ride ?" they asked.
"Make haste and tell us!" "Would ye bring him back ?" said I, wondering what to say.

Ranjoor Singh had told me little more than that we were drawing near the neighborhood of danger, and that I was to follow warily along his track.