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"Thir Theymour Thtukeley Thahib tellth Thir Matthew Thahib about the hilt-thwust. Why ith he white if he ith a Thahib's 'boy'?" "Good Gad!" murmured the Major. "I'm favoured of the gods. Tell me all about it, Sonny. Then I'll undo this parcel for you," he coaxed. "Oh, I don't wemember.
Who knows about them?" "I don't know, Major Thahib. Gunnoo sells 'Fire's' gram to the methrani for her curry and chuppatties." "But how do you know swords are like this? That thing isn't a pukka sword." "Well, it'th like Thir Theymour Thtukeley's in my dweam." "What dream?" "The one I'm alwayth dweaming. They have got long hair like Nurse in the night, and they fight and fight like anything.
They buck a lot by the tents and then Thir Theymour Thtukeley goes and fights Thir Matthew and kills him, and it'th awful lovely, but they dreth up like kids at a party in big collars and silly kit." "Yes, I know," murmured the Major. "Tell me what they say when they buck to each other by the tents, and when they talk about the 'hilt-thrust, old chap." "Oh, I don't wemember.
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