The Man Who Would Be King Page #4

Glad you caught the performance.

What do you think?

It's convincing,

but what are you rascals up to now?

Last week it was kings

you were to be, of Kafiristan.

- We've gotta get there first.

- Madness is a trick.

Who'd hurt some poor crazy priest

and his servant?

Peachy worked this out.

We've used it before.

He talks, while I act dumb.

I can clown pretty good now.

I can twitch to put the fear

into any good Muslim.

I can froth at the mouth.

Want to see?

- I can imagine.

- All right, some other time perhaps.

Come over here.

Give it a touch-up down here.

- Rifles?

- Twenty Martinis, and ammunition.

Cost us every sou we got

out of the rajah of Degumber.

Good heavens!

You mean you went back there?

Of course, Brother Kipling.

God help you

if you're caught with those!

Gunrunning isn't exactly new to us.

Well, Brother Kipling,

goodbye and many thanks.

Man, don't do it!

The odds are too great.

Wish us luck. We met upon the level.

And we're parting on the square.

Good luck, indeed.

Come along, you ugly beast.

Wait!

Here. Take this.

Last time Danny and me came through

the Khyber Pass, we fought our way...

...yard by bloody yard...

...and General Bobbs

called us heroes afterwards.

But that was years ago.

Times have changed.

- Blast! Look who's on sentry!

- Mulvaney!

That loudmouthed mick

from the Black Tyrone!

Private Mulvaney! Come to attention

when I am addressing you!

Slope arms!

Present! March!

Mark time!

At the double!

Corporal of the guard!

Take three men and put

Private Mulvaney under arrest!

Bloody man's drunk again!

We came through the Khyber

with that caravan...

...doing all sorts of antics

to amuse the people.

At night, he told them their fortunes

in a tongue of his own...

...and I translated.

And all concerned were happy...

...because I promised them

all their wishes would come true.

Then at Jaedallak we turned off

towards Kafiristan.

They were sad to see us leave

the caravan. We'd brought it good luck.

Two she-camels had foaled and there

was no sniping at us from the hills.

They waved goodbye to the mad priest

and his servant.

And Danny danced them out of sight.

The country was deserty.

The inhabitants were dispersed, solitary.

We travelled by night

and kept away from villages.

We didn't want to waste ammunition

in idle fighting with Afghans.

The Pushtukan.

A wavy blue line on the map, but we

couldn't hope to get camels across.

So Peachy says,

"It doesn't matter what they cost...

...we'll trade them for goats.

We're playing for high stakes."

Major McCrimmon bet me 10 bob he could

blow up a goat skin in one breath.

He did. Though he'd sat down

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