If you call him "the heroic
defender of the national honor" one day, and "a brutal and
licentious soldiery" the next, you naturally bewilder him, and he
looks upon you with suspicion. There is nobody to speak for
Thomas except people who have theories to work off on him; and
nobody understands Thomas except Thomas, and he does not
always know what is the matter with himself.
That is the prologue. This is the story:
Corporal Slane was engaged to be married to Miss Jhansi
M'Kenna, whose history is well known in the regiment and
elsewhere. He had his Colonel's permission, and, being popular
with the men, every arrangement had been made to give the
wedding what Private Ortheris called "eeklar." It fell in the heart
of the hot weather, and, after the wedding, Slane was going up to
the Hills with the Bride. None the less, Slane's grievance was that
the affair would he only a hired-carriage wedding, and he felt that
the "eeklar" of that was meagre. Miss M'Kenna did not care so
much. The Sergeant's wife was helping her to make her
wedding-dress, and she was very busy. Slane was, just then, the
only moderately contented man in barracks. All the rest were more
or less miserable.
And they had so much to make them happy, too. All their work
was over at eight in the morning, and for the rest of the day they
could lie on their backs and smoke Canteen-plug and swear at the
punkab-coolies.
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