"Then you are of a brave nation--you will understand me. The Sikhs
are a martial race. Their theory of politics is based on the military
spirit--is it not so?"

Ranjoor Singh, who understood and tried to live the Sikh religion
with all his gentlemanly might, was there to acquire information, not
to impart it. He grunted gravely.

"All martial nations expand eventually. They tell me--I have heard--
some of you Sikhs have tried Canada?"

Ranjoor Singh did not wince, though his back stiffened when the men
around him grinned; it is a sore point with the Sikhs that Canada
does not accept their emigrants.

"Sikhs are admitted into all the German colonies," said the man with
the gray eyes. "They are welcome."

"Do many go?" asked Ranjoor Singh.

"That is the point. The Sikhs want a place in the sun from which
they are barred at present--eh? Now, Germany--"

"Germany? Where is Germany?" asked Yasmini. She understands the last
trick in the art of getting a story on its way. "To the west is
England. Farther west, Ameliki. To the north lies Russia. To the
south the _kali pani_-ocean. Where is Germany?"

The man with the gray eyes took her literally, since his nation are
not slow at seizing opportunity. He launched without a word more of