The Lives of a Bengal Lancer Page #3

and I never forgave him

for it.

I don't think the horse

ever did realize what...

what the old man

did to him.

So I'm the horse.

Very subtle, Mac.

What the blazes do you mean?

I'm no two-year-old. I'm 21.

And if anybody thinks

my old man's going to break my nerve-

What are you talking about?

I wasn't thinking of you at all.

And let me tell

you another thing,

I don't need a nurse.

Now you can go on shaving.

Have a little soap.

You need it.

Do you have to do that?

Why, like you, I have

a softer side to my nature.

It finds its outlet in music.

See? The scales.

Hey, Mac, get me a towel,

will you?

Variations,

one hand, Mac.

Listen, Forsythe.

This Mother Machree business

has gone far enough.

Why, of course, Mac.

I'm sorry.

I didn't realize it.

Well, let's, uh,

just forget all about it. Hm?

Thanks.

Hey, Mac,

that soap's in my eyes.

Give me a towel,

will you?

McGregor.

Variations, two hands, Mac.

How long are you

going to...

Keep playing.

Variations, Mr. Forsythe,

with both hands.

Cobras have

a softer side, too.

Finds an outlet in music.

Of course,

if you-if you stop playing,

You know, you might live

a couple of hours.

I had a friend once

that lived for two days.

Try it with one hand.

Mac!

Allow me.

You might spill it.

For sale, cheap.

One secondhand

musical instrument.

200 feet more.

Plus 200 east.

Elevation, 300.

Elevation, 300.

Mr. McGregor.

Yes, sir?

There's no word

yet from Barrett.

We must get in touch with him.

Yes, sir.

You're familiar

with the roads north east

of Fort Jamrud?

I am, sir.

Yes, good, good.

You'll cross

the Frontier tonight.

Take one subaltern,

one NCO, 10 men,

four spare horses.

And, uh, rifles.

Not lances.

I see, sir.

Ostensibly,

a hunting expedition.

What subaltern

shall I take, sir?

Mmm,

any preference?

Mr. Stone, sir.

No service experience.

Take Morgan.

He's on leave, sir.

Well, then, take Forsythe.

Yes, sir.

Here are your orders.

And this time,

obey them.

Yes, sir.

Forsythe.

Huh?

We're leaving for

the border immediately.

What?

Action?

Can't say.

Oh.

We leave

for the border?

Uh, small expedition.

Only one junior officer.

Forsythe.

Yes?

One junior officer,

so he had to choose-

I chose Forsythe.

I see.

Sir.

What do you mean by

intruding like this?

Why wasn't I chosen

to go with McGregor?

Are you questioning

my orders?

Then it was your orders.

It wasn't McGregor's choice.

It was yours.

Mr. Stone.

I came out to India

to be an officer,

and I've been given

things to do

I learned in my first year

at Sandhurst.

I haven't asked any favors,

and I'm not asking any now.

But if you meant to

treat me this way,

why did you

bring me out here?

Why did you send for me?

I didn't send for you.

Y- you didn't?

Oh.

Are you aware

we're being shot at?

We camp here.

This is no place to camp.

Are you

out of your mind?

They'll rush us in the night

and slit our throats.

This can't be

what the Colonel meant.

Easy to see how much

you learned in the Blues

about Frontier fighting.

No firing.

He's mine.

Rapid fire!

You just missed my ear, Mac.

You're lucky, Barrett.

You got a cigarette?

Yeah.

Thanks.

What shall I tell

the ColoneI?

Mohammed Khan,

is effecting a coalition

of all the tribes.

But don't forget, Colonel,

GopaI's a friendly state.

The Emir's our friend,

as who knows better than you.

Oh, of course, I've known

Othman Ali for 20 years.

Every year or so

I take the regiment

up to Gopal for

maneuvers and pig-sticking.

He's got the best wild pig

north of the Ganges.

Ah.

But two million

rounds of ammunition.

Oh, no, Woodley.

Why, that's enough

to start a small-sized war.

And then, who knows?

Yes, who knows?

But he asked for it.

And if we refused, well,

he mightn't be our friend.

And so he gets it, eh?

Yes.

McGregor, Sahib.

Oh, ask Mr. McGregor

to come in.

Oh, sit down, sir,

won't you?

You saw Barrett?

Yes, sir.

He reports Mohammed Khan

is trying to stir up all the border tribes,

and effect

a coalition of all of them.

They're listening

to him as he's promised

to supply them

with machine guns,

and two million

rounds of ammunition.

Ammunition?

Oh, that's good work.

Thank you, McGregor.

Thank Barrett, sir.

Look at here, sir, I-I know

it's none of my business,

but couldn't we

slip out of here,

a small detachment of us,

anyway, on our own?

Try to get a chance

at him, kill him,

and-and nip the whole

business in the bud?

Are you suggesting

that I should commence

hostilities without orders?

And, uh, ahem,

without reporting this

to the Intelligence?

Intelligence, those fools.

General staff?

You know, sir, they'll send us

anywhere but into action.

To Gopal to stick pigs

for instance, like last summer.

An excellent suggestion.

Sir Thomas,

Mr. McGregor.

Mr. McGregor, Maj. Gen.

Sir Thomas Woodley.

Chief of Intelligence.

Army Headquarters.

Mr. McGregor.

CoI. Stone, your regiment

will leave at dawn for GopaI.

Yes, sir.

Now, get yourself

a couple of hours sleep.

We leave at 6:
00.

Yes, sir.

Wish I could go with you.

I always liked pig-sticking.

Pig-sticking.

Well, I seem to remember

feeling that way once.

He's probably right.

Hm.

But he brought

our answer, Stone.

A plain two and two

that makes a very plain four.

Mohammed Khan needs

two million rounds of ammunition.

And the Emir of Gopal asks us

for two million rounds-

Yes, yes, and it's not

difficult to guess,

that Mohammed Khan persuaded

the Emir to ask for it.

He knows we'll have

to let him have it, too.

And GopaI's not only remote,

but far enough removed

from the Khan's home fires,

that we shouldn't

be suspicious.

Very pretty, indeed.

And it becomes

our very pleasant job,

to see that the Emir

really is the one

who gets the ammunition.

That old p*ssy-footer

gets paid for

being intelligent.

I tell you, Forsythe,

everything's going to smash.

What?

Pig-sticking.

We're going to ride all around Gopal

sticking toothpicks into pigs.

Sounds rather fun.

I ought to be rather good

at that, don't you think?

Hmm.

By the way, McGregor,

I've got bad news for you.

Your ward needs

parental controI, I fear.

That is, if you can find him.

Naim Shah tells me he's been

out every night since we left.

Rolling home

to quarters blotto.

Tonight he's still

out on a binge.

Hm. We leave for

Gopal in two hours.

Oh, without Stone, it appears.

My, what will

the stern father say?

You'd better do

something about it, Mac.

The young fooI.

Let old Ramrod do

what he likes with his son.

It's no concern of mine.

I'm going to bed.

So am I.

What are you doing here?

The same as you are.

Looking for him.

And I wish you'd be

honest with yourself,

and let me know

what you're really going to do.

If you'd just tell me,

maybe I'd get more sleep.

Now that we are here,

what would you do

if you were drunk?

How drunk?

Pretty drunk.

I'd go looking

for that music.

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