’Ye will not.  Dearsley’s a jool av a man.  Afther Ortheris had put me into the palanquin an’ the six bearer-men were gruntin’ down the road, I tuk thought to mock Dearsley for that fight.  So I tould thim, “Go to the embankmint,” and there, bein’ most amazin’ full, I shtuck my head out av the concern an’ passed compliments wid Dearsley.  I must ha’ miscalled him outrageous, for whin I am that way the power av the tongue comes on me.  I can bare remimber tellin’ him that his mouth opened endways like the mouth av a skate, which was thrue afther Learoyd had handled ut; an’ I clear remimber his takin’ no manner nor matter av offence, but givin’ me a big dhrink of beer.  ’Twas the beer did the thrick, for I crawled back into the palanquin, steppin’ on me right ear wid me left foot, an’ thin I slept like the dead.  Wanst I half-roused, an’ begad the noise in my head was tremenjus—­roarin’ and rattlin’ an’ poundin’ such as was quite new to me.  “Mother av Mercy,” thinks I, “phwat a concertina I will have on my shoulders whin I wake!” An’ wid that I curls mysilf up to sleep before ut should get hould on me.  Bhoys, that noise was not dhrink, ‘twas the rattle av a thrain!’

There followed an impressive pause.

‘Yes, he had put me on a thrain—­put me, palanquin an’ all, an’ six black assassins av his own coolies that was in his nefarious confidence, on the flat av a ballast-thruck, and we were rowlin’ an’ bowlin’ along to Benares.  Glory be that I did not wake up thin an’ introjuce mysilf to the coolies.  As I was sayin’, I slept for the betther part av a day an’ a night.  But remimber you, that that man Dearsley had packed me off on wan av his material-thrains to Benares, all for to make me overstay my leave an’ get me into the cells.’

The explanation was an eminently rational one.  Benares lay at least ten hours by rail from the cantonments, and nothing in the world could have saved Mulvaney from arrest as a deserter had he appeared there in the apparel of his orgies.  Dearsley had not forgotten to take revenge.  Learoyd, drawing back a little, began to place soft blows over selected portions of Mulvaney’s body.  His thoughts were away on the embankment, and they meditated evil for Dearsley.  Mulvaney continued—­

’Whin I was full awake the palanquin was set down in a street, I suspicioned, for I cud hear people passin’ an’ talkin’.  But I knew well I was far from home.  There is a queer smell upon our cantonments—­a smell av dried earth and brick-kilns wid whiffs av cavalry stable-litter.  This place smelt marigold flowers an’ bad water, an’ wanst somethin’ alive came an’ blew heavy with his muzzle at the chink av the shutter.  “It’s in a village I am,” thinks I to mysilf, “an’ the parochial buffalo is investigatin’ the palanquin.”  But anyways I had no desire to move.  Only lie still whin you’re in foreign parts an’ the standin’ luck av the British Army will carry ye through.  That is an epigram.  I made ut.