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Updated: October 22, 2026
By the blood of God by my medals, my own honor, and the good name of Pukka-Cunnigan, his father, I swear it!" "Rung Ho!" grinned the six-foot son of war who, rode beside him. They rode on at a walk past the tombstone that at Mahommed Gunga's orders the villagers had decked with sickly scented forest flowers, and as they passed they both saluted it in silence.
To Chota-Cunnigan-bahadur son of Pukka-Cunnigan whom we all knew general salute present sabres!" There was sudden movement the ring of whipped-out metal a bird's wing-beat as fifteen hundred hilts rose all together to as many lips and a sharp intake of breath all down the line. It wasn't bad. Not bad at all, thought Cunningham. It was not done as regulars would have worked it.