competitor would yell: "_Shahbash_! Bravo! Well shot! Another bull's
eye! You will win for certain." While rival interests would with equal
emphasis discredit the performance: "This bull's eye was certainly an
accident. God willing he will miss next time. Bravo! let us not lose
heart!"

The demeanour of the winner on such occasions would make a Master in
Lunacy look grave. The happy young fellow would jump into the air,
yelling and pirouetting, brandishing a sword, and at frequent intervals
letting off a gun, nominally into the air, while most of his friends did
likewise, embracing and congratulating him in the intervals. Without
taking a seat amongst the Scribes and Pharisees, it is perhaps
permissible to notice that such a scene as this is in curious contrast
to that to be seen in any French or German country town when lots are
being drawn for conscription. There the youth, who by drawing a lucky
number escapes serving his country, is congratulated, fêted, and led in
procession round the streets.

One hard and fast rule, however, Lumsden made. He would take no low
caste men; he would have naught to say to the washermen, sweepers, and
fiddlers[7] of the village; he would take only the highest, which in
this land is the fighting caste. His argument was one which still holds
good. It is not in reason to expect the classes which for hundreds of
years have been hewers of wood and drawers of water, and for hundreds of
years have been accustomed to receive the cuffs and kicks of their
village superiors, to face readily the fighting classes in the day of
battle. The prestige of the soldier would be wanting to them, and
prestige counts for as much in the East as elsewhere.

[7] A musician in India is a low caste person.