"These gents think too much—you don’t. A good soldier never thinks. If he does, he’s a nuisance. A soldier’s a man who doesn’t ask why he’s got to die. He does it, and that’s the end of it. And I want to talk to you now about Esprit-de-Corps." "What’s that, sergint?" "Esprit-de-Corps means that you’ve got to feel and believe that you’re equal to a hundred niggers, ten Frenchmen, five Germans, and a couple of Yanks." "Is that no’ swank?" asked Tamson. "Well—yes. What you call swank won Waterloo, the Crimea, and the Mutiny. See! But just to make it clear, gather round here and I’ll tell you of a fight I was once in." The recruits came closer, for when Cursem opened up his heart they loved him. And then all liked to hear the yarns of the tented field. And Cursem was a clever enough soldier to know that this was the best way to let these simple-hearted youngsters understand that tradition and duty are the mainsprings of an army. "You see, this affair happened out on the Frontier. That’s where the sun peels your nose like a banana, and gives you a thirst that gallons can’t kill. Well, we had been marching, skirmishing, and killing for nearly six months. We had lost half of the regiment with bullets, fever, and sunstroke when we arrived at a place called Fugee. There the old colonel told us that there were three thousand oily-skinned Dacoits waiting to kill us out by a night attack. Mark you, we were only five hundred strong, and half-starved at that. The nearest garrison was 100 miles away, and we had only rations for three days. Pretty tight, I tell you. So the officers and sergeants had a pow-wow. The colonel put it straight to us when he said, ’It’s fight and get out, or stand still and get butchered to death.’ We voted to fight. ’Very well—we’ll burn our camp baggage, spare rifles, and everything we can’t carry on our backs. Then we shall sally out at night. ’A’ Company will make a feint at the enemy, while the remaining companies slip round their rear. ’A’ must fight its way through or perish, while the remainder must also take pot-luck. Do you agree?’ We all said ’Yes,’ and went back to get ready. "Everything was burned. And as I was in ’A’ I got my boys ready for their job. The old colonel shook hands with every man of ’A,’ and wished us luck. He never expected to see us again. Then out we crawled to the foot of the hills. It was as dark as the devil’s waistcoat. And now and then we fell into dongas and holes. No one spoke, and all tried to keep behind the captain, who had an illuminated compass. For over an hour we stumbled along, when the captain whispered ’Halt!’