prisoners as if they were blood-brothers of every man in it. Many
an officer whom King knew waved to him from a passing train.

"Meet you in Berlin!" was a favorite greeting. And after that
they would shout to him for news and be gone before King could answer.

Many a man, at stations where the sidings were all full and nothing
less than miracles seemed able to release the wedged-in trains,
came and paced up and down a platform side by side with King. From
them he received opinions, but no sympathy to speak of.

"Got to stay in India? Hard lines!" Then the conversation would
be bluntly changed, for in the height of one's enthusiasm it is
not decent to hurt another fellow's feelings. Simple, simple as
a little child is the clean-clipped British officer. "Look at that
babu, now. Don't you think he's a marvel? Don't you think the
Indian babu's a marvel? Sixty a month is more than the beggar gets,
and there he goes, doing two jobs and straightening out tangled
trains into the bargain! Isn't he a wonder, King?"

"India's a wonderful country," King would answer, that being one
of his stock remarks. And to his credit be it written that he
never laughed at one of them. He let them think they were more
fortunate than he, with manlier, bloodier work to do.

Peshawur, when they reached it at last, looked dusty and bleak in
the comfortless light of Northern dawn. But the prisoners crowed
and crooned it a greeting, and there was not much grumbling when
King refused to unlock their compartment doors. Having waited
thus long, they could endure a few more hours in patience, now