He would introduce them to Cunningham in public whenever possible under the eyes of outraged seniors who would swear and, fume and ride away disgust at the reverence paid to "a mere boy, sir--a bally, ignorant young jackanapes!" Had Cunningham been other than a born soldier with his soldier senses all on edge and sleepless, he would have fallen foul of disgrace within a month.

He was unattached as yet, and that fact gave opportunity to the men who looked for it to try to "take the conceit out of the cub, by gad." "They "-- everybody spoke of them as "they"-- conceived the brilliant idea of confronting the youngster with conditions which he lacked experience to cope with.

They set him to deal with circumstances which had long ago proved too difficult for themselves, and awaited confidently the outcome--the crass mistake, or oversight, or mere misfortune that, with the aid of a possible court martial, would reduce him to a proper state of humbleness.
Peshawur, the greatest garrison in northern India, was there on sufferance, apparently.

For lack of energetic men in authority to deal with them, the border robbers plundered while the troops remained cooped up within the unhealthiest station on the list.

The government itself, with several thousand troops to back it up, was paying blackmail to the border thieves! There was not a government bungalow in all Peshawur that did not have its "watchman," hired from over the border, well paid to sleep on the veranda lest his friends should come and take tribute in an even more unseemly manner.
The younger men, whose sense of fitness had not yet been rotted by climate and system and prerogative, swore at the condition; there were one or two men higher up, destined to make history, whose voices, raised in emphatic protest, were drowned in the drone of "Peace! Peace is the thing to work for.