Though daily witnessing such instances of dash and courage, Ted Russell marvelled less thereat than at the quiet indifference to peril displayed by the native servants. These men were not of the fighting castes: a dozen of them would have fled cringing from the anger of a single Englishman, Pathan, Sikh, or Gurkha. Yet, in such different ways is courage shown, they performed without flinching duties which most Britons would have shrunk from. They would sit at their work or at their meals in the most exposed places, with bullets flicking up the dust all round, no more concerned than a bullock would have been. To bring meals and provisions to Hindu Rao's house they were forced to cross the dangerous "Valley of the Shadow of Death". Any soldier who might have to pass this spot would await the opportunity to dart across; but these mild non-combatants would calmly walk over, and should any of their number be struck down, would stop to shed a few tears over the corpse and then resume the even tenour of their way. The army before Delhi was absolutely dependent on these servitors. In that terrible heat the English could not have existed without them; and yet, it must be sorrowfully confessed, they were occasionally ill-treated by some of the more churlish and lawless of those to whose wants they ministered. The boy who bullies at school remains often enough a bully when he has grown up. Bullies are generally stupid fellows, and in the eyes of such men one "nigger" was much the same as another, and the faithful brown servants had to suffer for the sins of the Cawnpore murderers. There was one man in particular, a major of the 15th Derajat Infantry, whose bullying propensities had more than once aroused indignation in the breasts of Ted's friends. Fortunately there were not many Englishmen of his stamp. One day Ted was told off for picket duty with half a dozen men some distance from the "Sammy" House. When close to his lonely post his attention was attracted by the strange demeanour of a group of wild-looking frontiersmen, assembled in a sheltered hollow. He drew nearer, and perceived to his disgust that a miserable native servant had been tied up and was being flogged with bamboo rods, while a white officer looked on approvingly. Ted recognized the man, and his blood boiled. Taking no account of the difference in rank, he hastened to the spot, and hotly demanded what the poor fellow had been doing to deserve such treatment. The major of the Derajats--for he it was--opened his eyes in amazement, and his face became convulsed with anger. Controlling his rage he contemptuously asked: "And who are you, little boy?" Thereat one or two of the Punjabis laughed. "I'm in command of this picket, sir, and I can't allow this where I'm responsible. Look! the poor beggar is fainting!" The officer looked round--first at the miserable Hindu, whose back was a mass of bleeding weals, and then continued to gaze about him as though in search of someone.