“Yes, of course; I know, and I don’t want to.”
“That’s right; and you mustn’t kill people in England because you fall out with them.”
“No, of course not; I know that too. But I don’t like that boy. He keeps on saying nasty things to us, and—and—what do you call it? I know—bullies you, and says insulting things to me. How dare he call me a nigger and say my father was a mahout?”
“The insulting brute!” said Glyn.
“Why should he do it?” cried Singh.
“Oh, it’s plain enough. It’s because he is big and strong, and he wants to pick a quarrel with us.”
“But what for?” cried Singh. “We never did him any harm.”
“Love of conquest, I suppose, so as to make us humble ourselves to him same as the other fellows do. He wants to be cock of the school.”
“Oh—oh!” cried Singh. “It does make me feel so hot. What did he say to me: was I going to ride on the elephant?—Yes. Well, suppose I was. It wouldn’t be the first time.”
“Not by hundreds,” cried Glyn. “I say, used it not to be grand? Don’t you wish we were going over the plains to-day on the back of old Sultan?”