FullReads

G. Then it is for myself or because they are part of me. You don’t see it. My life’s so good, so pleasant, as it is, that I want to make it quite safe. Can’t you understand?

M. Perfectly. ‘Shelter-pit for the Orf’cer’s charger,’ as they say in the Line.

G. And I have everything to my hand to make it so. I’m sick of the strain and the worry for their sakes out here; and there isn’t a single real difficulty to prevent my dropping it altogether. It’ll only cost me–Jack, I hope you’ll never know the shame that I’ve been going through for the past six months.

M. Hold on there! I don’t wish to be told. Every man has his moods and tenses sometimes.

G. (Laughing bitterly.) Has he? What do you call craning over to see where your near-fore lands?

M. In my case it means that I have been on the Considerable Bend, and have come to parade with a Head and a Hand. It passes in three strides.

G. (Lowering voice.) It never passes with me, Jack. I’m always thinking about it. Phil Gadsby funking a fall on parade! Sweet picture, isn’t it! Draw it for me.

M. (Gravely.) Heaven forbid! A man like you can’t be as bad as that. A fall is no nice thing, but one never gives it a thought.

G. Doesn’t one? Wait till you’ve got a wife and a youngster of your own, and then you’ll know how the roar of the squadron behind you turns you cold all up the back.

M. (Aside.) And this man led at Amdheran after Bagal-Deasin went under, and we were all mixed up together, and he came out of the show dripping like a butcher. (Aloud.) Skittles! The men can always open out, and you can always pick your way more or less. We haven’t the dust to bother us, as the men have, and whoever heard of a horse stepping on a man?

G. Never–as long as he can see. But did they open out for poor Errington?

M. Oh, this is childish!

G. I know it is, worse than that. I don’t care. You’ve ridden Van Loo. Is he the sort of brute to pick his way–‘specially when we’re coming up in column of troop with any pace on?

M. Once in a Blue Moon do we gallop in column of troop, and then only to save time. Aren’t three lengths enough for you?

G. Yes–quite enough. They just allow for the full development of the smash. I’m talking like a cur, I know: but I tell you that, for the past three months, I’ve felt every hoof of the squadron in the small of my back every time that I’ve led.

M. But, Gaddy, this is awful!

G. Isn’t it lovely? Isn’t it royal? A Captain of the Pink Hussars watering up his charger before parade like the blasted boozing Colonel of a Black Regiment!

M. You never did!

G. Once only. He squelched like a mussuck, and the Troop-Sergeant-Major cocked his eye at me. You know old Haffy’s eye. I was afraid to do it again.

M. I should think so. That was the best way to rupture old Van Loo’s tummy, and make him crumple you up. You knew that.

G. I didn’t care. It took the edge off him.

M. ‘Took the edge off him’? Gaddy, you–you–you mustn’t, you know! Think of the men.

G. That’s another thing I am afraid of. D’you s’pose they know?

M. Let’s hope not; but they’re deadly quick to spot skrim–little things of that kind. See here, old man, send the Wife Home for the hot weather and come to Kashmir with me. We’ll start a boat on the Dal or cross the Rhotang–shoot ibex or loaf–which you please. Only come! You’re a bit off your oats and you’re talking nonsense. Look at the Colonel–swag-bellied rascal that he is. He has a wife and no end of a bow-window of his own. Can any one of us ride round him–chalk-stones and all? I can’t, and I think I can shove a crock along a bit.