"Whence come you?" said the Field-Marshal.
"From Tirah, Sahib."
"Ah! we have had some little trouble with your folk at Tirah. But all that is now past. Serve the Emperor faithfully and it shall be well with you."
"Ah! Sahib, but I am sorely troubled in my mind."
"And wherefore?"
"My aged father writes that a pig of a thief hath taken our cattle and abducted our women-folk. I would fain have leave to go on furlough and lie in a nullah at Tirah with my rifle and wait for him. Then would I return to France."
"Patience! That can wait. How like you the War?"
"Burra Achha Tamasha,[1] Sahib. But we like not their big guns. We would fain come at them with the bayonet. Why are we kept back in the trenches, Sahib?"
"Peace! It shall come in good time."
They passed into another cabin reserved for native officers. A tall Sikh rose to a half-sitting posture and saluted.