It dawned on him
that a regiment in India was nearer the chance of active service
than he had conceived, and that a man might as well study his
profession. A major of the new school backed this idea with
enthusiasm, and he and Cottar accumulated a library of military
works, and read and argued and disputed far into the nights. But
the adjutant said the old thing: "Get to know your men, young un,
and they 'll follow you anywhere. That's all you want - know your
men." Cottar thought he knew them fairly well at cricket and the
regimental sports, but he never realised the true inwardness of
them till he was sent off with a detachment of twenty to sit down
in a mud fort near a rushing river which was spanned by a bridge
of boats. When the floods came they went forth and hunted strayed
pontoons along the banks. Otherwise there was nothing to do, and
the men got drunk, gambled, and quarrelled. They were a sickly
crew, for a junior subaltern is by custom saddled with the worst
men. Cottar endured their rioting as long as he could, and then
sent down-country for a dozen pairs of boxing-gloves.
"I wouldn't blame you for fightin'," said he, "if you only knew how
to use your hands; but you don't.
Pages:
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450
451
452
453