"Rather!" chimed in Claude Boldre. "He's a grand man. I've been lucky in experiencing what the Pathans along the frontier think of him. They consider him a sort of second Mahomet." "I suppose he's performing miracles in the Punjab," said Alec. "Is it really true that they worship him as a god?" "Up in Hazara," replied the artilleryman, "they've formed a sect called the Nikkulseyns, and though Nicholson only thrashed them when they worshipped him, they considered it an honour to be whipped by him, and those who didn't get a licking envied their more fortunate neighbours. The fakir who founded the sect bothered Nikkulseyn to give him his old beaver hat, and as he received no encouragement, the wily old gentleman procured one like it. He then went the round of the shops at the busiest time of the day, and placed the hat in the doorway, so that none might leave or enter without removing or kicking it over. When customers were about to enter, the fakir called out, warning them not to desecrate the topi which had been worn by the great and mighty and holy Nikkulseyn. Nicholson was such a power in the land that none dared remove it, and at last the old fraud consented to take it away on being paid one rupee by the shopkeeper. He would thereupon proceed to another shop and repeat these tactics. When Nicholson heard of this he gave the fakir and his disciples a sound hiding all round, but they only sang hymns of praise to him." "He was worshipped in Bunnu almost as much as in Hazara, was he not?" enquired Paterson; and Claude Boldre replied: