G. Doesn't one? Wait till you've got a wife and a youngster of your own, and then you'll know how the roar of the squadron behind you turns you cold all up the back. M. (_Aside._) And this man led at Amdheran after Bagal-Deasin went under, and we were all mixed up together, and he came out of the show dripping like a butcher. (_Aloud._) Skittles! The men can always open out, and you can always pick your way more or less. _We_ haven't the dust to bother us, as the men have, and whoever heard of a horse stepping on a man? G. Never--as long as he can see. But did they open out for poor Errington? M. Oh, this is childish! G. I know it is, worse than that. I don't care. You've ridden Van Loo. Is he the sort of brute to pick his way--'specially when we're coming up in column of troop with any pace on? M. Once in a Blue Moon do we gallop in column of troop, and then only to save time. Aren't three lengths enough for you? G. Yes--quite enough. They just allow for the full development of the smash. I'm talking like a cur, I know: but I tell you that, for the past three months, I've felt every hoof of the squadron in the small of my back every time that I've led. M. But, Gaddy, this is awful! G. Isn't it lovely? Isn't it royal? A Captain of the Pink Hussars watering up his charger before parade like the blasted boozing Colonel of a Black Regiment! M. You never did! G. Once only. He squelched like a _mussuck_, and the Troop-Sergeant-Major cocked his eye at me. You know old Haffy's eye. I was afraid to do it again. M. I should think so. That was the best way to rupture old Van Loo's tummy, and make him crumple you up. You _knew_ that. G. I didn't care. It took the edge off him. M. 'Took the edge off him'? Gaddy, you--you--you _mustn't_, you know! Think of the men. G. That's another thing I am afraid of. D'you s'pose they know? M. Let's hope not; but they're deadly quick to spot skrim--little things of that kind. See here, old man, send the Wife Home for the hot weather and come to Kashmir with me. We'll start a boat on the Dal or cross the Rhotang--shoot ibex or loaf--which you please. Only _come!_ You're a bit off your oats and you're talking nonsense. Look at the Colonel--swag-bellied rascal that he is. He has a wife and no end of a bow-window of his own. Can any one of us ride round him--chalk-stones and all? I can't, and I think I can shove a crock along a bit. G. Some men are different. I haven't the nerve. Lord help me, I haven't the nerve! I've taken up a hole and a half to get my knees well under the wallets. I can't help it. I'm so afraid of anything happening to me. On my soul, I ought to be broke in front of the squadron, for cowardice. M. Ugly word, that. I should never have the courage to own up. G. I meant to lie about my reasons when I began, but--I've got out of the habit of lying to you, old man. Jack, you won't?--But I know you won't. M. Of course not. (_Half aloud_.) The Pinks are paying dearly for their Pride.