were too tightly trussed up, and stiff. A man
wants to be so that every muscle is free to play."

"Quite right," he said; and in imagination I saw a troop of men
uniformed as he proposed, and thought how admirably suited the dress
would be.

"Then, for their arms," he continued, "a long light lance, without
pennon."

"Nonsense!" I cried. "They must not carry lances."

"Well, then," he continued, "short guns--carbines."

"No, no," I said impetuously, for he had led me on so that I was
thoroughly interested. "The carbine would only be in the men's way."

"Ah! What, then--pistol?"

"No," I said; "artillerymen want no pistols. They have their guns,
which can deal with their enemies a mile away."

"Then you would not give them any arms but the cannon?"

"Yes," I cried, "certainly; swords."

"Ah, yes; swords," he said quietly; "like your men had."

"No!" I said emphatically; "not those heavy, clumsy, blunt sabres, but
well-made, keen-edged cutting and thrusting swords, something like your
tulwars, but with a better hilt and grip. I would make the men perfect
with their blades--thorough swordsmen. Let them use them well, and be
clever with their guns; that is all that a horse artilleryman needs--
except, of course, the power to ride anywhere at full speed, and stop at
nothing."

"But I like the lance," said the rajah, thoughtfully. "It is a grand
weapon well managed."

"Of course," I said; "but you must keep that for your light horse
regiment; well trained, mounted, and officered, they would be a most
valuable force."

"I think you are right," he said thoughtfully.

"I am sure I am," I cried. "The mounted artilleryman must be light and
active, a good horseman, perfectly daring; and as to the dress, such a
one as you proposed might be made to look smart and handsome, while it
gave the men freedom to move."

"Yes," he said thoughtfully; "and the officers' uniforms might be made
very striking with gold ornaments and silver caps."

I was silent, for it had suddenly occurred to me that I had allowed my
enthusiasm for military matters to carry me away.

He smiled. "It is of no use to draw back," he said; "your heart is in
it, and you know that you must accept the position."

"Must?" I said sharply.

"Oh, we will not talk about `must,'" he replied, laughing; "we are
friends, and you have been showing me what a thorough soldier you are,
with bright original thoughts of your own. Why, even if you