eyes o' Captain Fronte McKim, in the second outbreak o' the
wild Boh, Hira Kal, in the brown hills o' the Punjab."

The men listened expectantly, for when the liquor was right the old man
could tell of strange wars in far climes.

"One night the little hillmen sneaked up on Captain Barkley's flyin'
battery. They left his head an' his men's stickin' atop a row o' stakes
an' dragged the guns to a hilltop overlookin' the pass. An' in the
mornin' they unlimbered, sweepin' our left wing.

"Fronte McKim was captain o' the Lights an' Oi was a corp'l. All that
mornin' the Boh kep' pepperin' away, wi' 'Miss Fanny,' the colonel he
was, an' his parade-groun' staff o' book sogers, wi' tables o' figgers
an' the book o' rules an' maps an' a pair o' dividers, tryin' to figger
out how to chase a bad Boh offen a hilltop wi'out clim'in' the same.

"An' he lived a long time after, did Miss Fanny, to die in his bed o'
some nice, fine disease, wi' his fambly an' his Scotch an' sody
gathered about him.

"An' he was put in a foine, big coffin wi' a bran' new flag spread atop
to keep off the dust, an' carried back to Englan' in a war-ship, wi'
the harbor guns firin' salutes--the whiles Fronte McKim lays back among
the hills o' Punjab, wropped in his powder-burnt, shot-tore blanket.

"The hillmen an' their women an' the shiny hill kids give wide berth in
passin', an' make low salaams to the grave o' the terrible fightin'
_sahib_ that put the fear o' God in the heart o' the wild Boh. An' it's
as Captain Fronte would wished--Oi know'd um well.

"But, as Oi was sayin', the whiles Miss Fanny was tryin'--by nine times
six is forty-seven an' traject'ry an' muzzle v'locity an' fours right
an' holler squares--to wish the Boh offen the hilltop so he could march
us through the pass accordin' to Hoyle, Fronte McKim was off ahead
among the rocks, layin' on his belly behint a ant-hill studyin' the
hillside through his spyglass.

"Well, 'long 'bout noon he come gallopin' up, wi' his big black horse
all a lather, to where we was layin' in the scrub cursin' the flies an'
the department an' the outbreaks o' Bohs.

"'Come on, boys!' he hollers, wi' the glitter in his eye; 'Oi found the
way! All together now, an' we'll see the top o' yon hill or we'll see
hell this day!'

"Wi' that he tears loose a yell 'twould strike a chill to the heart o'
an iceberg, an' wheels his horse into the open--an' us in the saddle
an' follerin', all yellin' like a hellful