But who would have guessed it would end in my being dragged away from my regiment to march with a lot of Sikhs?
Eh?
Who would have guessed it?
There goes my regiment one way, and here go I another! What's our destination?
God knows! Who are you, and what are you?
God neither knows nor cares! What's to be the end of this?
The end of me, I expect--and all because I got drunk on the way home! It I get alive out of this," said he, "I'll get drunk once for the glory of God and then never touch beer again!" And he struck me on the thigh with his open palm.

The noise was like powder detonating, and the pain was acute.

I cursed him in his teeth and he grinned at me as if he and I were old friends.

Little blue eyes he had, sahib--light blue, set in full red cheeks.

There were many little red veins crisscrossed under the skin of his face, and his breath smelt of beer and tobacco.