They preferred to stand together and jabber all night in their queer Sikh lingo.

For myself, I used to stand outside the gate-way, looking down on the broad, winding river and on the twinkling lights of the great city.

The beating of drums, the rattle of tomtoms, and the yells and howls of the rebels, drunk with opium and with bang, were enough to remind us all night of our dangerous neighbors across the stream.
Every two hours the officer of the night used to come round to all the posts, to make sure that all was well.
"The third night of my watch was dark and dirty, with a small, driving rain.

It was dreary work standing in the gate-way hour after hour in such weather.

I tried again and again to make my Sikhs talk, but without much success.