Rudyard Kipling, in his story of the taking of the Lungtungpen, tells how, after the scrimmage in the village, “We halted and formed up, and Liftinant Brazenose blushin’ pink in the light of the mornin’ sun.  ’Twas the most ondacent parade I iver tuk a hand in—­four-and-twenty privates an’ a officer av the line in review ordher, an’ not as much as wud dust a fife between ’em all in the way of clothin’.”  As I stood on that bank, with the evening sun lighting up the river, I thought of “Liftinant Brazenose,” and also blushed.  True, I was clothed myself, but instead of twenty-five, I had two hundred coolies in the same condition as that bashful officer’s army.

It took us some three hours before all those loads were over, during which we had some exciting moments.  Most of the coolies found the stream too strong to stem alone, and so they crossed in parties of a dozen or more, holding hands; but now and then a man would try by himself, generally with the result that half-way across he would get swept off his feet, and go floating down the stream, vainly endeavouring to regain his footing.  Then there would be a rush of two or three of the levies, the man would be swung on to his feet, and his load fished for.  One man I thought was bound to be drowned; he had somehow tied his load on to his head, and, being washed off his feet, his head was kept down below the water, while his legs remained waving frantically in the air.  The load, being light, floated, and in this manner he was washed down stream, till two levies reached him, and, swinging him right side up, brought him spluttering ashore.

I often noticed, when sending an old man back for the remainder of his load, that some youngster who had brought his whole load across would volunteer to bring the remainder of the old man’s, and, of course, I was only too glad to let him.  We found the young men easy to manage, and the old men were let down lightly; it was the middle-aged man, full of strength and his own importance, who sometimes tried to raise objections, but it was getting late, and no time for fooling, so we drove our arguments home with a gun butt, and the man obeyed.  The rearguard crossed in the dark, and by nine o’clock I was able to report to Colonel Kelly that everybody had arrived in camp, just as dinner was ready.

I didn’t turn in till late that night, as I was on duty, and had to go scrambling round the pickets; even at that late hour I saw many men still cooking, probably preparing food for the next day.

As our supplies were now reduced to less than three days, our march the next morning was ordered for 10 A.M., in order to allow foraging parties to go out at daybreak to scoop in anything they could find.

In the meantime, I sent some levies forward to the next village to reconnoitre.

The foraging parties did not bring in much, but in our case every little was of importance, and by 10 A.M. we started.  Our front in camp had been protected by a deep nullah; it took some time getting across this.  By the time we cleared the village, we met our returning scouts, who reported having seen the enemy in the village of Mori, and reported their strength as some one hundred men on foot, and about twenty horsemen.  So we all cheered up at the chance of a fight.