Thy father's name, thine own, and mine and Alwa's weigh for much on thy side; but have a sound horse between thy legs and a trumpet in thy throat when we get there! I have seen more than one officer have to fight up-hill for the hearts of his troopers because his tired horse stumbled or looked shabby on the first parade.
Draw rein a little, sahib." So Cunningham, still saying nothing, drew back into an easy canter.

He was conscious of something, not at all like a trumpet, in his throat that was nearly choking him.

He did not care to let Mahommed Gunga know that what was being mistaken for masterly silence was really emotion! He did not speak because he did not trust his voice.
"There are three squadrons, sahib--each of about five hundred men.

Alwa has the right wing, I the left.

Take thou the centre and command the whole.