I spent my days when not inspecting outposts as follows:--Getting up before daylight, I exercised the Regiment by troops till 8.30 a.m.; saw the Native officers at orderly-room at 10; and then tried to disentangle and arrange the Regimental accounts till 5 p.m., when I went to the Horse Lines, and there remained till 7 p.m. This probably had an exhausting effect on my nervous system, and made me anxious to get away from what I feared must under the existing conditions remain an unsatisfactory Corps, inasmuch as it was financially unsound. When not engaged in trying to unravel the Regimental accounts, disciplining or drilling the men, I spent my time in patrolling the jungles to the north of Bersia. On the 9th January I went to Sindhara in the afternoon, and searched all night for a leader named Mulloob Khan, the Tontea (one-armed). This man was very troublesome from his courage and determination, and it was to him that the doom of Chemmun Singh (see p. 179) was remitted. I perceived there were some men in the Regiment who might become good soldiers, and having issued an Order that no one would be promoted unless he could ride fairly, read and write his own language, it became necessary to establish a school. I provided a hut at a cost of about £5; the furniture consisted of the piece of praying-carpet which good Mussulmen carried on the saddle, and a payment of 6d. monthly from the voluntary pupils remunerated the master, who soon had bearded men of forty years of age under instruction. Early in February an incident occurred indicating clearly the difficulties of keeping order in the numerous States and petty Chiefships of Central India. A Lieutenant, fifty years of age, appearing at orderly-room one morning, said, “The rebels are gone, there remain only robbers: may I have leave?” “For how long?” “I cannot say--my business may take six months, but I will return the moment it is done.” “Six months is a long time, Lieutenant.” “Yes, but I have always done my duty, and I must have leave, or resign.” “Why so urgent?” Becoming excited, he doffed his turban, saying, “Look at my head, unshaven for months, and which I have sworn shall not be touched till I have satisfaction for my nephew’s death.” “But what happened to him?” “He was the Head of our family, and travelling, at nightfall was near a village owned by an hereditary enemy. My nephew sent to ask if he would be received as a friend. Being assured of hospitality, he went in, was well entertained, and in the morning seen out of the village with due ceremony, but three miles out was attacked in a pass and killed, with all his servants but two who escaped.” “Take your leave, Lieutenant; come back when you can.” Five weeks later he reappeared with a cheerful face. “I am glad to see you back, Lieutenant. Have you done your business satisfactorily?” “Quite so, my master, and my head is shaved.” I asked him no more questions, but one of his friends told me he had fully avenged his nephew’s death.