Warder of Tounghoo Jail; there’s hundreds that I could lay my hand on if I was in India.  The Viceroy shall do it for me; I’ll send a man through in the spring for those men, and I’ll write for a dispensation from the Grand Lodge for what I’ve done as Grand Master.  That—­and all the Sniders that’ll be thrown out when the native troops in India take up the Martini.  They’ll be worn smooth, but they’ll do for fighting in these hills.  Twelve English, a hundred thousand Sniders run through the Amir’s country in driblets,—­I’d be content with twenty thousand in one year,—­and we’d be an Empire.  When everything was shipshape I’d hand over the crown—­this crown I’m wearing now—­to Queen Victoria on my knees, and she’d say, “Rise up, Sir Daniel Dravot.”  Oh, it’s big!  It’s big, I tell you!  But there’s so much to be done in every place—­Bashkai, Khawak, Shu, and everywhere else.’

“‘What is it?’ I says.  ’There are no more men coming in to be drilled this autumn.  Look at those fat black clouds.  They’re bringing the snow.’

“‘It isn’t that,’ says Daniel, putting his hand very hard on my shoulder; ’and I don’t wish to say anything that’s against you, for no other living man would have followed me and made me what I am as you have done.  You’re a first-class Commander-in-Chief, and the people know you; but—­it’s a big country, and somehow you can’t help me, Peachey, in the way I want to be helped.’

“‘Go to your blasted priests, then!’ I said, and I was sorry when I made that remark, but it did hurt me sore to find Daniel talking so superior, when I’d drilled all the men and done all he told me.

“‘Don’t let’s quarrel, Peachey,’ says Daniel, without cursing.  ’You’re a King too, and the half of this Kingdom is yours; but can’t you see, Peachey, we want cleverer men than us now—­three or four of ’em, that we can scatter about for our Deputies.  It’s a hugeous great State, and I can’t always tell the right thing to do, and I haven’t time for all I want to do, and here’s the winter coming on and all.’  He put half his beard into his mouth, all red like the gold of his crown.

“‘I’m sorry, Daniel,’ says I.  ’I’ve done all I could.  I’ve drilled the men and shown the people how to stack their oats better; and I’ve brought in those tinware rifles from Ghorband—­but I know what you’re driving at.  I take it Kings always feel oppressed that way.’

“‘There’s another thing too,’ says Dravot, walking up and down.  ’The winter’s coming, and these people won’t be giving much trouble, and if they do we can’t move about.  I want a wife.’

“‘For Gord’s sake leave the women alone!’ I says.  ’We’ve both got all the work we can, though I am a fool.  Remember the Contrack, and keep clear o’ women.’

“’The Contrack only lasted till such time as we was Kings; and Kings we have been these months past,’ says Dravot, weighing his crown in his hand.  ‘You go get a wife too, Peachey—­a nice, strappin’, plump girl that’ll keep you warm in the winter.  They’re prettier than English girls, and we can take the pick of ’em.  Boil ’em once or twice in hot water, and they’ll come out like chicken and ham.’