“Quite right. Then I will not hurry you away to-day. Perhaps to-morrow. Let us talk about your dress. I want you to help me think out a suitable uniform for my gun regiment. Not like yours. It is too hot and wearisome for the men. The helmet is too heavy, and shines too much. What do you think of a little steel cap, something like mine, with a white puggaree round it, and a little plume in front?”
“It would be excellent,” I said.
He looked pleased.
“Then a white tunic, with gold binding across the chest. Light, not heavy, like yours.”
“That would be quite right,” I said.
“And then they shall wear boots like your men. They are heavy, but a man rides so much better in boots.”
“Yes; you are quite correct,” I said eagerly. “It gives him firmness in the saddle, and he never notices their weight. The tunic, too, should be fairly loose and light, so that the men have perfect freedom for their arms. Our lads were too tightly trussed up, and stiff. A man wants to be so that every muscle is free to play.”
“Quite right,” he said; and in imagination I saw a troop of men uniformed as he proposed, and thought how admirably suited the dress would be.
“Then, for their arms,” he continued, “a long light lance, without pennon.”
“Nonsense!” I cried. “They must not carry lances.”