"It's addressed to 'Colonel Kirby sahib!' Bet you it's from Ranjoor Singh! Now--d'you suppose that heathen meant to hold on to that until he could get his price for it?" "Dunno," said Kirby with indifference, opening the note as fast as trembling fingers could unfold it. He would not have admitted to himself what his fingers told so plainly--the extent of his regard for Ranjoor Singh. The note was short, and Kirby read it aloud, since it was not marked private, and there was nothing in it that even the babu might not have read: "To Colonel Kirby sahib, from his obedient servant, Risaldar-Major Ranjoor Singh--Leave of absence being out of question after declaration of war, will Colonel Kirby sahib please put in Order of the Day that Risaldar-Major Ranjoor Singh is assigned to special duty, or words to same effect?" "Is that all?" asked Warrington. "That's all," said Kirby. "Suppose it's a forgery?" "The ring rather proves it isn't, and I've another way of knowing." "Oh!" "Yes," said Kirby. They sat in silence in the swaying shay until the smell of musk and the sense of being mystified became too much for Warrington, and he began to hum to himself. Humming brought about a return to his usual wide-awakefulness, and he began to notice things. "Shay rides like a gun," he said suddenly. Kirby grunted. "All the weight's behind and--" He put his head out of the window to investigate, but Kirby ordered him to sit still. "Want to be recognized?" he demanded. "Keep your head inside, you young ass!" So Warrington sat back against the cushions until the guard at the barrack gate turned out to present arms to the risaldar's raised whip. As if he understood the requirements of the occasion without being told, the risaldar sent the horses up the drive at a hard gallop. It was rather more than half-way up the drive that Warrington spoke again. "Feel that, sir?" he asked. "I ordered that place to be seen to yesterday!" growled Kirby. "Why wasn't it done?" "It was, sir." "Why did we bump there, then?" "Why aren't we running like a gun any longer?" wondered Warrington. "Felt to me as if we'd dropped a load." "Well, here we are, thank God! What do you mean to do?" "Rounds," said Warrington. "Very well." Kirby dived through his door, while Warrington went behind the shay to have a good look for causes. He could find none, although a black leather apron, usually rolled up behind in order to be strapped over baggage when required, was missing. "Didn't see who took that apron, did you?" he asked the risaldar; but the risaldar had not known that it was gone. "All right, then, and thank you!" said Warrington, walking off into the darkness bareheaded, to help the smell evaporate from his hair; and the shay rumbled away to its appointed place, with the babu's loin-cloth inside it on the front seat.