You don't want to fight,
And by Jingo when we do,
You've got the kid, you've got the Wife,
You've got the money, too.
That's about the case, eh?
G. I suppose that's it. But it's not for myself. It's because of _them._
At least I think it is.
M. Are you sure? Looking at the matter in a cold-blooded light, the
Wife is provided for even if you were wiped out to-night. She has
an ancestral home to go to, money, and the Brigadier to carry on the
illustrious name.
G. Then it is for myself or because they are part of me. You don't see
it. My life's so good, so pleasant, as it is, that I want to make it
quite safe. Can't you understand?
M. Perfectly. 'Shelter-pit for the Orf'cer's charger,' as they say in
the Line.
G. And I have everything to my hand to make it so. I'm sick of the
strain and the worry for their sakes out here; and there isn't a single
real difficulty to prevent my dropping it altogether. It'll only cost
me--Jack, I hope you'll never know the shame that I've been going
through for the past six months.
M. Hold on there! I don't wish to be told. Every man has his moods and
tenses sometimes.
G. (_Laughing bitterly_.) Has he? What do you call craning over to see
where your near-fore lands?
M. In my case it means that I have been on the Considerable Bend, and
have come to parade with a Head and a Hand. It passes in three strides.
G. (_Lowering voice_.) It _never_ passes with me, Jack. I'm always
thinking about it. Phil Gadsby funking a fall on parade! Sweet picture,
isn't it! Draw it for me.
M. (_Gravely_.) Heaven forbid! A man like you can't be as bad as that. A
fall is no nice thing, but one never gives it a thought.
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?