If the Sikh can't see his enemy he likes to fire first and challenge afterwards.

I preferred to be seen.

The sight of those uncompromising bayonets had changed my mind about the choice of evils.

The knife of a hardly probable assassin seemed a wiser risk than the ready triggers of the Punjaub.
Half-way down the street Suliman tugged at my cloak.
"That is the place where my mother is," he said, pointing to a narrow door on the left.
But I was taking no chances in that direction--not at that moment.

The little stone house was all in darkness.