“By good luck the Meer, my chief quarrelled with the king’s party in Delhi, and we came away in time to save being caught by Wilson, who would have recognised me at once. By-the-way, Baxter of the 30th was stupid enough to say, ‘Eh, Calvert’ what the devil are you doing amongst these niggers?’ He was a prisoner, at the time, and, of course, I had to order him to be shot for his imprudence. How he knew me I cannot guess; my beard is down to my breast, and I am turbaned and shawled in the most approved fashion. We are now simply marauding, cutting off supplies, falling on weak detachments, and doing a small retail business in murder wherever we chance upon a station of civil servants. I narrowly escaped being caught by a troop of the 9th Lancers, every man of whom knows me. I went over with six trusty fellows, to Astraghan, where I learned that a certain Loyd was stationed as Government receiver. We got there by night, burned his bungalow, shot him, and then discovered he was not our man, but another Loyd. Bradshaw came up with his troop. He gave us an eight mile chase across country, and, knowing how the Ninth ride, I took them over some sharp nullahs, and the croppers they got you’ll scarcely see mentioned in the government despatches. I fired three barrels of my Yankee six- shooter at Brad, and I heard the old beggar offer a thousand rupees for my head. When he found he could not overtake us, and sounded a halt, I screamed out, ‘Threes about, Bradshaw, I’d give fifty pounds to hear him tell the story at mess: ‘Yes, Sir, begad, Sir, in as good English, Sir, as yours or mine, Sir; a fellow who had served the Queen, I’ll swear.’