Heaven forbid! A man like you can't be as bad as
that. A fall is no nice thing, but one never gives it a thought.

CAPT. G. Doesn't one? Wait till you've got a wife and a youngster of
your own, and then you'll know how the roar of the squadron behind you
turns you cold all up the back.

CAPT. M. (Aside.) And this man led at Amdheran after Bagal Deasin went
under, and we were all mixed up together, and he came out of the snow
dripping like a butcher. (Aloud.) Skittles! The men can always open out,
and you can always pick your way more or less. We haven't the dust to
bother us, as the men have, and whoever heard of a horse stepping on a
man?

CAPT. G. Never-as long as he can see. But did they open out for poor
'Errington?

CAPT. M. Oh, this is childish!

CAPT. G. I know it is, worse than that. I don't care. You've ridden
Van Loo. Is he the sort of brute to pick his way-'specially when we're
coming up in column of troop with any pace on?

CAPT. M. Once in a Blue Moon do we gallop in column of troop, and then
only to save time. Aren't three lengths enough for you?

CAPT. G. Yes--quite enough. They just allow for the full development of
the smash. I'm talking like a cur, I know: but I tell you that, for the
past three months, I've felt every hoof of the squadron in the small of
my back every time that I've led.

CAPT. M. But, Gaddy, this is awful!

CAPT. 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!

CAPT. M. You never did!

CAPT. G. Once Only. He squelched like a mussuck, and the
Troop--Sergeant-Major cocked his eye at me. You know old Haffy's eye. I
was afraid to do it again.

CAPT. 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.

CAPT. G. I didn't care. It took the edge off him.

CAPT. M. "Took the edge off him"? Gaddy, you--you--you mustn't, you
know! Think of the men.

CAPT. G. That's another thing I am afraid of. D'you s'pose they know?

CAPT. M. Let's hope not; but they're deadly quick to spot skirm--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--shoot ibex or loaf--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 i