and tie up yet another mishap with wire--ordinary folks' carriages are
only repaired with string.

The Sirdar occupied almost the whole of the back seat, and Jo was
squeezed into the crack which was left. Jan was perched on a sort of
ledge, facing them. The carriage was narrow, six legs were two too many
for the space. Jan's were the superfluous ones. He tried this pose, he
tried that, but in spite of his contortions he endured much of the seven
hours' journey in acute discomfort and the latter part in torture.

In spite of his throat the Sirdar did nearly all the talking. The
country we were passing through were scenes of his battles: with one arm
he threw a company over this hill, with a hand, nearly hitting Jan in
the eye, he marched an army corps along that valley; he explained how he
had been forced to give up the Ministry of War because there was no
other efficient commander for the north.

A blue ridge of pine trees appeared on our right hand.

"You see those hills," said the Sirdar: "I'll tell you the story of a
reply of mine, a funny reply. I ordered a general last winter to march
across those hills. He said that the troops would starve. I looked him
in the eye. Then you will eat wolves, I shouted. He went."

If we passed peasants he stopped them. He seemed to have an
extraordinary memory for names and faces.

"Never forget a face," he said, "never forget its name. That is the
secret of popularity."