“Well, then,” he continued, “short guns—carbines.”
“No, no,” I said impetuously, for he had led me on so that I was thoroughly interested. “The carbine would only be in the men’s way.”
“Ah! What, then—pistol?”
“No,” I said; “artillerymen want no pistols. They have their guns, which can deal with their enemies a mile away.”
“Then you would not give them any arms but the cannon?”
“Yes,” I cried, “certainly; swords.”
“Ah, yes; swords,” he said quietly; “like your men had.”
“No!” I said emphatically; “not those heavy, clumsy, blunt sabres, but well-made, keen-edged cutting and thrusting swords, something like your tulwars, but with a better hilt and grip. I would make the men perfect with their blades—thorough swordsmen. Let them use them well, and be clever with their guns; that is all that a horse artilleryman needs—except, of course, the power to ride anywhere at full speed, and stop at nothing.”
“But I like the lance,” said the rajah, thoughtfully. “It is a grand weapon well managed.”
“Of course,” I said; “but you must keep that for your light horse regiment; well trained, mounted, and officered, they would be a most valuable force.”