“I?” he said, starting, and looking round. “Oh, I am in the artillery—the horse artillery. I thought you would know.”
I shook my head.
“We may run against each other sometimes out yonder; but it is a great country, and you may be stationed hundreds of miles away.”
“I hope so,” I thought.
“Rather a rough time to come for you, my lad,” he said, with what I took to be a cynical smile; “but you will soon get used to the noise of the guns.”
“Of course,” I said coldly. “Tell me more about the country. There are plenty of tigers, I suppose?”
“Oh yes, but far more mosquitoes.”
“Well, I know that,” I said.
“You have never seen one, I suppose?”
“No.”