They were full of praise of the rich land they had seen, comparing it with France. Firoz, in fact, wondered whether it would be possible to take up a bit of it, and his eyes glistened as he described the flourishing countryside.
They considered the people as almost as good as their own folk, though how on earth they managed to converse with them I don’t know. Still no good fighting man is ever at a loss how to make himself at home, and these two hard-bitten, war-seasoned, hereditary soldiers were no exception to the general rule, as I knew from past experience.
Payindah’s handling of a portly French farm-wife and the resultant delicacies which appeared in my company mess in consequence in the muddy days of 1914-15 still linger in my memory as bright spots upon an otherwise murky horizon. So doubtless he had no difficulty in explaining his meaning to the Sakae, even more akin to the peasant soldier of the Northern Punjab than were the stalwart peasantry of Northern France.
CHAPTER XV
WE SPEAK WITH AN ENVOY AND RIDE TO AORNOS
Next morning we found the whole place astir, horses outside ready saddled, and pack-animals waiting to be loaded. Aryenis was dressed in riding-clothes, a sort of long coat like the first appearance of the divided skirt before women took to the simple breeches and coat they wear so much nowadays, when nearly all ride astride.
Payindah and Firoz had packed most of our stuff overnight, and what little was left they finished while we breakfasted. As we came out, I noticed how shabby the two Punjabis’ travel-worn kit looked compared to the clothing of the men around, though these were in their war-gear, and I said to Aryenis that I hoped we should be able to refit soon, as we were all pretty disreputable.
“When we get to Miletis you will find clothes all right, Harilek; but you will have to wear those of our people, I think, unless you desire especially that your own should be copied.”
We got to horse and started down the same track we had followed the previous day. As we set out, I saw Firoz and Payindah riding two stout ponies, with their rifles slung, and carrying ours at the saddle bow. Forsyth’s rifle was borne by one of the soldiers, who was displaying the wonderful weapon to his friends, very proud of the trust reposed in him.
I noticed, hanging on Payindah’s saddle, the steel cap Wrexham had recovered from the man I killed at the gate, and took it from him to look at it again, for it was of curious workmanship, and more ornate than the usual type. Evidently the late owner was a person of quality among the Shamans.
We had ridden perhaps a mile—I was talking to Aryenis—when from up the path in front of us dashed a man on a small pony, a regular soldier by his dress. He pulled up his beast, and, saluting Kyrlos, handed him a paper which Kyrlos read and then called to me.