We had one-and-twenty wounded, many of them by our own riflemen.
Then we rode on into the night, Ranjoor Singh urging us to utmost speed.

The Armenians begged us to remain with them, or to take them with us.

Some clung to our stirrups, but we had to shake them loose.
For what could we do more than we had done for them?
Should we die with them in the desert, serving neither them nor us?
We gave them the best advice we could and rode away.

We bade them eat, and scatter, and hide.

And I hope they did.
We rode on, laughing to think that Kurds would be blamed for our doings, and wondering whether the Armenians had enough spirit left to make use of the loot we did not touch.