hoof of the squadron in the small of my back every time that I've led.
M.—But, Gaddy, this is awful!
G.—Isn't it lovely? Isn't it royal? A Captain of the Pink Hussars watering up his charger before parade like the blasted boozing Colonel of a Black Regiment?
M.—You never did!
G.—Once only. He squelched like a mussuck, and the Troop-Sergeant-Major cocked his eye at me. You know old Hafty's eye. I was afraid to do it again.
M.—I should think so. That was the best way to rupture old Van Loo's tummy, and make him crumple you up. You knew that.
G.—I didn't care. It took the edge off him.
M.—"Took the edge off him! Gaddy, you—you—you mustn't, you know! Think of the men.
G.—That's another thing I am afraid of. D'you's'pose they know.
M.—Let's hope not; but they're deadly quick to spot skrim—little things of that kind. See here, old man, send the wife home for the hot weather and come to Kashmir with me. We'll start a boat on the Dal or cross the Rhotang—ibex or idleness—which you please. Only come! You're a bit off your oats, and you're talking nonsense. Look at the Colonel—swag-bellied rascal that he is. He has a wife and no end of a bow-window of his own. Can any one of us ride round him—chalkstones and all? I can't, and I think I can shove a crock along a bit
G.—Some men are different. I haven't the nerve. Lord help me, I haven't the nerve! I've taken up a hole and a half to get my knees well under the wallets. I can't help it. I'm so afraid of anything happening to me. On my soul I ought to be broke in front of the squadron for cowardice.
M.—Ugly word, that. I should never have the courage to own up.
G.—I meant to lie about my reasons when I began, but
