But I drew no fire.
"I do not know the English name for my complaint," he said.

(But he spoke English better than I, he having mastered it, whereas I was only born to its careless use.) "How long do you expect to remain on the sick list ?" I asked, because a woman once told me that the way to make a man talk is to seem to be interested in himself.
"Who knows ?" said he.
He showed me about the camp, and we came to a stand at last under the branches of an enormous mango tree.

Early though it was, a Sikh non-commissioned officer was already sitting propped against the trunk with his bandaged feet stretched out in front of him--a peculiar attitude for a Sikh.
"That one knows English," my guide said, nodding.

And making me a most profound salaam, he added: "Why not talk with him?
I have duties.

I must go." The officer turned away, and I paid him the courtesy due from one man to another.