The Three Musketeers

An' when the war began, we chased the bold Afghan,
An' we made the bloomin' Ghazi for to flee, boys O!
An' we marched into Kabul, an' we tuk the Balar 'Issar
An' we taught 'em to respec' the British Soldier.
_Barrack Room Ballad._

Mulvaney, Ortheris and Learoyd are Privates in B Company of a Line
Regiment, and personal friends of mine. Collectively I think, but am not
certain, they are the worst men in the regiment so far as genial
blackguardism goes.

They told me this story, in the Umballa Refreshment Room while we were
waiting for an up-train. I supplied the beer. The tale was cheap at a
gallon and a half.

All men know Lord Benira Trig. He Is a Duke, or an Earl, or something
unofficial; also a Peer; also a Globe-trotter. On all three counts, as
Ortheris says, "'e didn't deserve no consideration." He was out in India
for three months collecting materials for a book on "Our Eastern
Impedimenta," and quartering himself upon everybody, like a Cossack in
evening-dress.

His particular vice--because he was a Radical, men said--was having
garrisons turned out for his inspection. He would then dine with the
Officer Commanding, and insult him, across the Mess table, about the
appearance of the troops. That was Benira's way.

He turned out troops once too often. He came to Helanthami Cantonment on a
Tuesday. He wished to go shopping in the bazars on Wednesday, and he
"desired" the troops to be turned out on a Thursday. _On--a--Thursday._
The Officer Commanding could not well refuse; for Benira was a Lord. There
was an indignation-meeting of subalterns in the Mess Room, to call the
Colonel pet names.

"But the rale dimonstrashin," said Mulvaney, "was in B Comp'ny barrick; we
three headin' it."

Mulvaney climbed on to the refreshment-bar, settled himself comfortably by
the beer, and went on, "Whin the row was at ut's foinest an' B Comp'ny was
fur goin' out to murther this man Thrigg on the p'rade-groun', Learoyd
here takes up his helmut an' sez--fwhat was ut ye said?"

"Ah said," said Learoyd, "gie us t' brass. Tak oop a subscripshun, lads,
for to put off t' p'rade, an' if t' p'rade's not put off, ah'll gie t'
brass back agean. Thot's wot ah said. All B Coomp'ny knawed me. Ah took
oop a big subscripshun--fower rupees eight annas 'twas--an' ah went oot to
turn t' job over. Mulvaney an' Orth'ris coom with me."

"We three raises the Divil In couples gin'rally," explained Mulvaney.

Here Ortheris interrupted. "'Ave you read the papers?" said he.

"Sometimes," I said,

"We 'ad read the papers, an' we put hup a faked decoity, a--a sedukshun."

"_Ab_dukshin, ye cockney," said Mulvaney.

"_Ab_dukshin or _se_dukshun--no great odds. Any'ow, we arranged to taik
an' put Mister Benhira out o' the way till Thursday was hover, or 'e too
busy to rux 'isself about p'raids. _Hi_ was the man wot said, 'We'll make
a few rupees off o' the business.'"

"We hild a Council av War," continued Mulvaney, "walkin' roun' by the
Artill'ry Lines. I was Prisidint, Learoyd was Minister av Finance, an'
little Orth'ris here was"--

"A bloomin' Bismarck! _Hi_ made the 'ole show pay."

"This interferin' bit av a Benira man," said Mulvaney, "did the thrick for
us himself; for, on me sowl, we hadn't a notion av what was to come afther
the next minut. He was shoppin' in the bazar on fut. Twas dhrawin' dusk
thin, an' we stud watchin' the little man hoppin' in an' out av the shops,
thryin' to injuce the naygurs to _mallum_ his _bat_. Prisintly, he sthrols
up, his arrums full av thruck, an' he sez in a consiquinshal way,
shticking out his little belly, 'Me good men,' sez he, 'have ye seen the
Kernel's b'roosh?'--'B'roosh?' says Learoyd. 'There's no b'roosh
here--nobbut a _hekka_.'--'Fwhat's that?' sez Thrigg. Learoyd shows him
wan down the sthreet, an' he sez, 'How thruly Orientil! I will ride on a
_hekka_.' I saw thin that our Rigimintal Saint was for givin' Thrigg over
to us neck an' brisket. I purshued a _hekka_, an' I sez to the
dhriver-divil, I sez, 'Ye black limb, there's a _Sahib_ comin' for this
_hekka_. He wants to go _jildi_ to the Padsahi Jhil'--'twas about tu
moiles away--'to shoot snipe--_chirria_. You dhrive _Jehannum ke marfik,
mallum_--like Hell? 'Tis no manner av use _bukkin'_ to the _Sahib_, bekaze
he doesn't _samjao_ your talk. Av he _bolos_ anything, just you _choop_
and _chel_. _Dekker?_ Go _arsty_ for the first _arder_-mile from
cantonmints. Thin _chel, Shaitan ke marfik_, an' the _chooper_ you
_choops_ an' the _jildier_ you _chels_ the better _kooshy_ will that
_Sahib_ be; an' here's a rupee for ye?'

"The _hekka_-man knew there was somethin' out av the common in the air. He
grinned an' sez, '_Bote achee!_ I goin' damn fast.' I prayed that the
Kernel's b'roosh wudn't arrive till me darlin' Benira by the grace av God
was undher weigh. The little man puts his thruck into the _hekka_ an'
scuttles in like a fat guinea-pig; niver offerin' us the price av a dhrink
for our services in helpin' him home, 'He's off to the Padsahi _jhil_,'
sez I to the others."

Ortheris took up the tale--

"Jist then, little Buldoo kim up, 'oo was the son of one of the Artillery
grooms--'e would 'av made a 'evinly newspaper-boy in London, bein' sharp
an' fly to all manner o' games, 'E 'ad bin watchin' us puttin' Mister
Benhira into 'is temporary baroush, an' 'e sez, 'What _'ave_ you been a
doin' of, _Sahibs?_' sez 'e. Learoyd 'e caught 'im by the ear an 'e sez"--

"Ah says,' went on Learoyd, 'Young mon, that mon's gooin' to have t' goons
out o' Thursday--to-morrow--an' thot's more work for you, young mon. Now,
sitha, tak' a _tat_ an' a _lookri,_ an' ride tha domdest to t' Padsahi
Jhil. Cotch thot there _hekka_, and tell t' driver iv your lingo thot
you've coorn to tak' his place. T' _Sahib_ doesn't speak t' _bat_, an'
he's a little mon. Drive t' _hekka_ into t' Padsahi Jhil into t' waiter.
Leave t' _Sahib_ theer an' roon hoam; an' here's a rupee for tha,'"

Then Mulvaney and Ortheris spoke together in alternate fragments: Mulvaney
leading [You must pick out the two speakers as best you can]:--"He was a
knowin' little divil was Bhuldoo,--'e sez _bote achee_ an' cuts--wid a
wink in his oi--but _Hi_ sez there's money to be made--an' I wanted to see
the ind av the campaign--so _Hi_ says we'll double hout to the Padsahi
Jhil--an' save the little man from bein' dacoited by the murtherin'
Bhuldoo--an' turn hup like reskooers in a Vic'oria Melodrama-so we doubled
for the _jhil_, an' prisintly there was the divil av a hurroosh behind us
an' three bhoys on grasscuts' ponies come by, poundin' along for the dear
life--s'elp me Bob, hif Buldoo 'adn't raised a rig'lar _harmy_ of
decoits--to do the job in shtile. An' we ran, an' they ran, shplittin'
with laughin', till we gets near the _jhil_--and 'ears sounds of distress
floatin' molloncolly on the hevenin' hair." [Ortheris was growing poetical
under the influence of the beer. The duet recommenced: Mulvaney leading
again.]

"Thin we heard Bhuldoo, the dacoit, shoutin' to the _hekka_ man, an' wan
of the young divils brought his stick down on the top av the
_hekka_-cover, an' Benira Thrigg inside howled 'Murther an' Death.' Buldoo
takes the reins and dhrives like mad for the _jhil_, havin' dishpersed the
_hekka_-dhriver--'oo cum up to us an' 'e sez, sez 'e, 'That _Sahib's_ nigh
mad with funk! Wot devil's work 'ave you led me into?'--'Hall right,' sez
we, 'you catch that there pony an' come along. This _Sahib's_ been
decoited, an' we're going to resky 'im!' Says the driver, 'Decoits! Wot
decoits? That's Buldoo the _budmash_'--'Bhuldoo be shot!' sez we, ''Tis a
woild dissolute Pathan frum the hills. There's about eight av thim
coercin' the _Sahib_. You remimber that an you'll get another rupee!' Thin
we heard the _whop-whop-whop_ av the _hekka_ turnin' over, an' a splash av
water an' the voice av Benira Thrigg callin' upon God to forgive his
sins--an' Buldoo an' 'is friends squotterin' in the water like boys in the
Serpentine."

Here the Three Musketeers retired simultaneously into the beer.

"Well? What came next?" said I.

"Fwhat nex'?" answered Mulvaney, wiping his mouth. "Wud ye let three bould
sodger-bhoys lave the ornamint av the House av Lords to be dhrowned an'
dacoited in a _jhil?_ We formed line av quarther-column an' we discinded
upon the inimy. For the better part av tin minutes you could not hear
yerself spake. The _tattoo_ was screamin' in chune wid Benira Thrigg an'
Bhuldoo's army, an' the shticks was whistlin' roun' the _hekka_, an'
Orth'ris was beatin' the _hekka_-cover wid his fistes, an' Learoyd
yellin', 'Look out for their knives!' an' me cuttin' into the dark, right
an' lef', dishpersin' arrmy corps av Pathans. Holy Mother av Moses! 'twas
more disp'rit than Ahmid Kheyl wid Maiwund thrown in. Afther a while
Bhuldoo an' his bhoys flees. Have ye iver seen a rale live Lord thryin' to
hide his nobility undher a fut an' a half av brown swamp-wather? Tis the
livin' image av a water-carrier's goatskin wid the shivers. It tuk toime
to pershuade me frind Benira he was not disimbowilled: an' more toime to
get out the _hekka_. The dhriver come up afther the battle, swearin' he
tuk a hand in repulsin' the inimy. Benira was sick wid the fear. We
escorted him back, very slow, to cantonmints, for that an' the chill to
soak into him. It suk! Glory be to the Rigimintil Saint, but it suk to the
marrow av Lord Benira Thrigg!"

Here Ortheris, slowly, with immense pride--"'E sez, 'You har my noble
preservers,' sez 'e. 'You har a _h_onor to the British Harmy,' sez 'e.
With that e' describes the hawful band of dacoits wot set on 'im. There
was about forty of 'em an' 'e was hoverpowered by numbers, so 'e was; but
'e never lorst 'is presence of mind, so 'e didn't. 'E guv the
_hekka_-driver five rupees for 'is noble assistance, an' 'e said 'e would
see to us after 'e 'ad spoken to the Kernul. For we was a _h_onor to the
Regiment, we was."

"An' we three," said Mulvaney, with a seraphic smile, "have dhrawn the
par-ti-cu-lar attinshin av Bobs Bahadur more than wanst. But he's a rale
good little man is Bobs. Go on, Orth'ris, my son."

"Then we leaves 'im at the Kernul's 'ouse, werry sick, an' we cuts hover
to B Comp'ny barrick an' we sez we 'ave saved Benira from a bloody doom,
an' the chances was agin there bein' p'raid on Thursday. About ten minutes
later come three envelicks, one for each of us. S'elp me Bob, if the old
bloke 'adn't guv us a fiver apiece--sixty-four rupees in the bazar! On
Thursday 'e was in 'orspital recoverin' from 'is sanguinary encounter with
a gang of Pathans, an' B Comp'ny was drinkin' 'emselves into Clink by
squads. So there never was no Thursday p'raid. But the Kernal, when 'e
'eard of our galliant conduct, 'e sez, 'Hi know there's been some devilry
somewheres,' sez 'e, 'but I can't bring it 'ome to you three.'"

"An' my privit imprisshin is," said Mulvaney, getting off the bar and
turning his glass upside down, "that, av they had known they wudn't have
brought ut home. 'Tis flyin' in the face, firstly av Nature, secon' av the
Rig'lations, an' third the will av Terence Mulvaney, to hold p'rades av
Thursdays."

"Good, ma son!" said Learoyd; "but, young mon, what's t' notebook for?"

"'Let be," said Mulvaney; "this time next month we're in the _Sherapis_.
'Tis immortial fame the gentleman's goin' to give us. But kape it dhark
till we're out av the range av me little frind Bobs Bahadur."

And I have obeyed Mulvaney's order.