The Lives of a Bengal Lancer Page #6

or a soldier, I don't

want any part of it.

Not me.

That kid needs him.

It's his own blood,

and if he cared

a hang about him-

Of course he cares. But

what's that got to do with it?

He loved his wife, too,

but he lost her.

She was American.

Couldn't stick the service,

couldn't understand.

So he chose the regiment then

just as he's doing now.

But that doesn't mean

he didn't care.

I know.

I ought to know.

We were Cubs together.

He put his whole souI

into the regiment,

and that's all he's had.

And he won't have that long,

either. Retirement.

He'll have an armchair

in the club,

and a window over the rag,

and that's all.

And he'll have nothing

if his boy doesn't carry on

in this regiment.

Then he'd have everything?

Of course he would.

That's what it means to him.

But you think

he'd let that make

any difference

to his orders, to his job?

Well, why shouldn't it?

Why can't he be

a little less of a soldier

and more of a man?

Why can't he forget

his blasted duty for once?

Man, you are blind!

Have you never thought

how for generation

after generation here,

a handfuI of men

have ordered the lives

of 300 million people?

It's because he's here,

and a few more like him.

Men of his breed

have made British India.

Men who put their jobs

above everything.

He wouldn't let death

move him from it

and he won't let love

move him from it.

When his breed of man

dies out, that's the end.

And it's

a better breed of man

than any of us will ever make.

Good night, gentlemen.

There's a great deaI

of speaking of minds

going on here tonight.

I didn't think

the old boy had it in him,

but he's right.

According to his way

of thinking, maybe.

It's funny,

your being out here

and thinking of it

in any other way.

On their side, huh?

Well, I'm not. So I'm

going to do something.

There's been enough thinking

and talking, too. I'm going.

Are you really, now?

You know, you put me

in a rather awkward position.

Look, I don't want

any trouble with you,

but I'm going.

Well, when do we start?

What do you mean "we"?

You're my prisoner, you know.

I couldn't let you

out of my sight.

I regret to have

to report, sir.

McGregor and Forsythe

have disappeared.

What, desertion?

I suppose it is,

technically.

Well, what did you expect?

" Sure I love

the dear silver "

" That shines in her hair "

" And the brow

that's all furrowed "

" and wrinkled with care "

" I kiss the dear fingers

so toiI-worn for me "

" Oh, God bless you

and keep you "

" Mother "

" Mcgregor "

Why do they want to talk

so many languages in India?

It's up to you.

You'll have to be

the talking merchant.

I'll be

the deaf and dumb one.

Well,

at least we're in.

I hope getting out

is as easy.

Trying to be funny?

No, I'm not

trying to be funny.

I'm scared stiff.

What are we

going to do now?

Try to look and act

like the rest

of these merchants.

Set up shops.

Sell a few doodads

while we take a look around.

I don't see anything

that looks like a plan.

As far as I can see,

we've just stuck our head

in the lion's mouth.

A very large and

unpleasant lion, too.

Suppose you

were Mohammed Khan,

where would you have put him?

Oh, no, you play first.

It'll be more fun.

All right.

You stay here

and unpack these things

and set up shop.

I'll take a look around.

Don't forget

you're deaf and dumb.

You'd better cut

your prices, Mac,

before I get my throat cut.

Do you think

she recognized us?

I hope not.

I don't think so.

Anyway,

we won't worry about it.

Did you see

anything interesting?

Not a thing.

What's that mean?

Time to go?

Yes.

But we're gonna stay

right here untiI we can-

He's in all right.

No doubt about that.

And doing rather well, too.

Clicquot.

I saw the labeI. Iced.

If that's the way Mohammed Khan

tortures his victims

I'd like to change places

with him for 10 minutes.

That guard's got

a key all right.

If we can last till night,

hit the guard over the head

get the kid out,

try and steal some horses-

Jump them over

a 40-foot wall

and then that mad dash

for the border.

Well, you think

of something better.

Mohammed Khan sent for us.

He wants to see

our rugs and laces.

Do you suppose?

No, I don't suppose.

Don't forget

you're deaf and dumb.

Oh, come, come, gentlemen.

It isn't everyday

that two British officers

prostrate themselves at the feet of

a poor border chieftain.

Mr. McGregor, Mr. Forsythe.

I told you, this Mardi Gras

would be a washout.

I had hoped the ColoneI

might come himself

but since he has so

very cleverly refused,

I welcome you

to my humble home.

You remember,

my dear, of course?

How could I forget?

They were such

charming dinner companions.

Dinner. Yes, of course.

You will dine with me

surely, gentlemen,

to try my poor savage fare?

I know you must be anxious

to meet my guest of honor.

I wouldn't do that

if I were you, Mr. McGregor.

Yes, I've-I've seen

good cricket in my time.

I was an Oxford man,

you know.

But I must compliment you,

Mr. Forsythe,

on your delivery.

Superb.

Oh, charming

compliment.

My only regret is that

it wasn't a hand grenade.

A charming thought.

A charming dinner.

The mutton

was, uh, excellent.

Always mutton.

We have mutton or chicken

up here. But, as you say,

good mutton, quite the equaI

of your English South Down.

Now you put me in a very

difficult position.

Pride of country urges me

to argue the point.

But my position

as, uh...

as a guest,

shall we say-

By all means a guest,

for the time being.

For the time being, huh?

Pass the wine.

My position

as a guest

for the time being,

of course,

inclines me

to agree with you.

Well, a compliment indeed,

that we can approach the excellence

of anything British.

I'm fed up with this

cat-and-mouse business.

Let's talk sense.

You've got us here and now what

are you going to do with us?

Mac, manners,

manners.

By the way, we didn't

thank the Khan sahib

for our charming

and picturesque raiment.

Suppose we stay

with the subject?

I'm quite prepared

to supply you

with horses to return

to your regiment.

You can tell your coloneI

that some of my men

misunderstood his son's

innocent flirtation.

Of course,

when I found it out,

I punished them at once.

An easy explanation of how

I came to set you free.

And, uh,

what's the catch?

You have only to answer

two very simple questions:

By what route is

the ammunition train coming

and just where does

the regiment plan

to meet it for convoy?

Well, when the furry

little animaI

jumped out of the bag

he really jumped, didn't he?

Well, gentlemen.

We have ways

to make men talk.

If you'll forgive me,

I- I have a headache.

Oh, I'm sorry, my dear.

Madame Volkanskaya

finds our methods

in this part of the world

a little too direct

for her taste.

Your brandy, gentlemen.

Take it. We may need it.

I regret this,

but thanks to your coloneI's

cold heart and cold brain

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