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Sharpe, as the junior officer, would have to propose the loyal toast and pretend not to see when half the bastards wafted their mugs over their canteens. King over the water.
A child with a pile of rocks could keep an army from climbing that road.
“Two thousand muskets are still missing, sir,” Sharpe said. “Sorry, sir. Didn’t mean to call you ‘sir.’”
Your brother deserved to die. He was a thief.” “And you English have come to steal all India,” Jama said equably.
The guns, firing at their maximum elevation, were just able to throw their missiles to Gawilghur’s southern entrance, but by the time the round shot reached the gate it was spent of all force and simply bounced back down the steep slope.
