The “red lion” now stepped briskly forward, as if going to knock Tom down; recovered his arms with a crack, which made me almost jump out of my chair, and proceeded at once to “unfold a tale” of considerable length, to which my friend replied, “Ucha,”[[23]] and “Bhote khoob,”[[24]] though it was pretty clear, from his perplexed look and embarrassed air, that he did not understand one-third of it. In point of fact, the aforesaid statement was evidently one which involved some knotty point for “the protector of the poor’s” decision, and requiring something more tangible in the way of comment than the aforesaid “Bhote khoob.”
My friend, however, dismissed him with a “Peechee hookum,” “orders deferred,” a sort of “call again to-morrow” phrase, much used in India, when time is sought to be gained. Another salute from the subadar, another formidable crack of the fusee from Loll Sing, and both wheeled on their heels, and exeunt. “Buggy lou juldee” (“bring quick the gig”), “Jal kreech do” (and “give me my sash and sword”), shouted Rattleton.
A sort of whiskey, which my friend sported on his ensign’s pay, was soon at the door. He was duly equipped, and in we both stepped, and drove off to the bungalow of Colonel Lollsaug, the commandant of my friend’s regiment, which I shall call the 95th N.I., or “Zubberdust Bullumteers.”
We were ushered in, and found the colonel smoking his hookha, with a sneaker of cold tea before him, a sort of prolongation of the breakfast almost universal in India. He rose as we entered, and shook hands with Tom, who presented me as his friend recently arrived.
The colonel was a gaunt figure of six feet two, or thereabouts, with sallow sunken cheeks, and two little tufts of grizzled whisker near the corner of his mouth; he was dressed in a not uncommon morning dishabille, consisting simply of a shirt and red camlet jacket, a pair of immense pajammas, or native trousers, tied with a silken string at the waist, whilst an immense pair of spangled Indian slippers, with curly toes as long as rams’ horns, adorned his feet; an embroidered velvet scull-cap was perched on the top of his head: and altogether he was as striking a specimen of the epicene gender of the Orientalized European as I had as yet seen.
The colonel asked me if I had recently arrived? how I liked India? what the folks were doing at home? if St. Paul’s stood where it used to do? and sundry other questions of a like nature, to all of which I gave suitable replies.
Rattleton told him we were old schoolfellows, and that I had a strong desire to do duty with his corps for a month, if it could be so arranged. The colonel kindly undertook to manage the matter, and told Tom to introduce me to the adjutant, who would have me instructed in the drill, and manual and platoon, with some other young men then with the regiment.
The colonel now asked my friend if he had been at the grand ball an evening or two before, and how it went off?
Tom said he had, and they had a very pleasant evening, second supper, lots of dancing, and some good songs, and that there were strong suspicions that the general was a little “fou.”
“Well,” said the colonel; “that’s all right, but was she there?”