Nothing taken for granted.

Even my small change was examined in the moonlight, coin by coin, to make sure, I suppose, that it wouldn't explode if struck on stone.

They gave everything back to me, including my underwear.
A bearded non-commissioned officer entered a description of me in a pocket memorandum book.

If his face, as he wrote it, was anything to judge by he described me as a leper without a license.

Then I was cautioned gruffly in an unknown tongue and told to "imshi!" It isn't a bad plan to "imshi" rather quickly when a Sikh platoon suggests your doing it.