A splendid warrior; in private life a bit of a _Don Juan_, perhaps;
but his womenfolk bear him no grudge on this score, liking themselves
to sail easy through matrimonial seas.
When I returned to the depot a month ago there were tales, but, as
our old Subadar-Major observed, "War brought little disturbances. The
mischief was unfortunate, perhaps, but not irremediable," and, as the
Subadar had himself been on service in China for a matter of three
years, he knew what he was talking about.
As for the tales, well, I was reminded of them a few days ago on
making a tour of the lines to see that quarters were clean and
habitable for the next batch of invalids. There would be hospital
for some, for others the sunny little married quarters, and round
there wives were bustling with glee, making no secret of their late
coquetries, but manifestly glad of the return of their former lords.
Brass pots were being scoured in the doorways; babies sprawled in the
sun; a smell of cooking sweetmeats filled the air; a band of small
urchins in the roadway, wearing the sham accoutrements of war, was
prancing blithely to the song of "Lang-taraf-Tippalaerlee," and
as their leader pulled up to give me a grave and perfect salute I
recognised the son of old Bahadur Rai.
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