Soldiers Three

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Soldiers Three

The Story of the Gadsbys
In Black and White

By Rudyard Kipling

1895

CONTENTS

THE GOD FROM THE MACHINE
OF THOSE CALLED
PRIVATE LEAROYD'S STORY
THE BIG DRUNK DRAF'
THE WRECK OF THE VISIGOTH
THE SOLID MULDOON
WITH THE MAIN GUARD
IN THE MATTER OF A PRIVATE
BLACK JACK
POOR DEAR MAMMA
THE WORLD WITHOUT
THE TENTS OF KEDAR
WITH ANY AMAZEMENT
THE GARDEN OF EDEN
FATIMA
THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW
THE SWELLING OF JORDAN
DRAY WARA YOW DEE
THE JUDGMENT OF DUNGARA
AT HOWLI THANA
GEMINI
AT TWENTY-TWO
IN FLOOD TIME
THE SENDING OF DANA DA
ON THE CITY WALL
THE STORY OF THE GADSBYS
IN BLACK AND WHITE

THE GOD FROM THE MACHINE

Hit a man an' help a woman, an' ye can't be far wrong anyways.--
_Maxims of Private Mulvaney._

The Inexpressibles gave a ball. They borrowed a seven-pounder from the
Gunners, and wreathed it with laurels, and made the dancing-floor
plate-glass, and provided a supper, the like of which had never been
eaten before, and set two sentries at the door of the room to hold the
trays of programme-cards. My friend, Private Mulvaney, was one of the
sentries, because he was the tallest man in the regiment. When the
dance was fairly started the sentries were released, and Private
Mulvaney went to curry favour with the Mess Sergeant in charge of the
supper. Whether the Mess Sergeant gave or Mulvaney took, I cannot say.
All that I am certain of is that, at supper-time, I found Mulvaney
with Private Ortheris, two-thirds of a ham, a loaf of bread, half a
_pate-de-foie-gras_, and two magnums of champagne, sitting on the roof
of my carriage. As I came up I heard him saying--

'Praise be a danst doesn't come as often as Ord'ly-room, or, by this
an' that, Orth'ris, me son, I wud be the dishgrace av the rig'mint
instid av the brightest jool in uts crown.'

'_Hand_ the Colonel's pet noosance,' said Ortheris. 'But wot makes you
curse your rations? This 'ere fizzy stuff's good enough.'

'Stuff, ye oncivilised pagin! 'Tis champagne we're dhrinkin' now.
'Tisn't that I am set ag'in. 'Tis this quare stuff wid the little bits
av black leather in it. I misdoubt I will be distressin'ly sick wid
it in the mornin'. Fwhat is ut?'

'Goose liver,' I said, climbing on the top of the carriage, for I knew
that it was better to sit out with Mulvaney than to dance many dances.

'Goose liver is ut?' said Mulvaney. 'Faith, I'm thinkin' thim that
makes it wud do betther to cut up the Colonel. He carries a power av
liver undher his right arrum whin the days are warm an' the nights
chill. He wud give thim tons an' tons av liver. 'Tis he sez so. "I'm
all liver to-day," sez he; an' wid that he ordhers me ten days C. B.
for as moild a dhrink as iver a good sodger tuk betune his teeth.'

'That was when 'e wanted for to wash 'isself in the Fort Ditch,'
Ortheris explained. 'Said there was too much beer in the Barrack
water-butts for a God-fearing man. You was lucky in gettin' orf with
wot you did, Mulvaney.'

'Say you so? Now I'm pershuaded I was cruel hard trated, seein' fwhat
I've done for the likes av him in the days whin my eyes were wider
opin than they are now. Man alive, for the Colonel to whip _me_ on the
peg in that way! Me that have saved the repitation av a ten times
better man than him! 'Twas ne-farious--an' that manes a power av
evil!'

'Never mind the nefariousness,' I said. 'Whose reputation did you
save?'

'More's the pity, 'twasn't my own, but I tuk more trouble wid ut than
av ut was. 'Twas just my way, messin' wid fwhat was no business av
mine. Hear now!' He settled himself at ease on the top of the carriage.
'I'll tell you all about ut. Av coorse I will name no names, for there's
wan that's an orf'cer's lady now, that was in ut, and no more will I
name places, for a man is thracked by a place.'

'Eyah!' said Ortheris lazily, 'but this is a mixed story wot's comin'.'

'Wanst upon a time, as the childer-books say, I was a recruity.'

'Was you though?' said Ortheris; 'now that's extry-ordinary!'

'Orth'ris,' said Mulvaney, 'av you opin thim lips av yours again, I
will, savin' your presince, Sorr, take you by the slack av your trousers
an' heave you.'

'I'm mum,' said Ortheris. 'Wot 'appened when you was a recruity?'

'I was a betther recruity than you iver was or will be, but that's
neither here nor there. Thin I became a man, an' the divil of a man
I was fifteen years ago. They called me Buck Mulvaney in thim days,
an', begad, I tuk a woman's eye. I did that! Ortheris, ye scrub, fwhat
are ye sniggerin' at? Do you misdoubt me?'

'Devil a doubt!' said Ortheris; 'but I've 'eard summat like that
before!'

Mulvaney dismissed the impertinence with a lofty wave of his hand and
continued--

'An' the orf'cers av the rig'mint I was in in thim days _was_
orf'cers--gran' men, wid a manner on 'em, an' a way wid 'em such as
is not made these days--all but wan--wan o' the capt'ns. A bad dhrill,
a wake voice, an' a limp leg--thim three things are the signs av a bad
man. You bear that in your mind, Orth'ris, me son.

'An' the Colonel av the rig'mint had a daughter--wan av thim lamblike,
bleatin', pick-me-up-an'-carry-me-or-I'll-die gurls such as was made
for the natural prey av men like the Capt'n, who was iverlastin' payin'
coort to her, though the Colonel he said time an' over, "Kape out av
the brute's way, my dear." But he niver had the heart for to send her
away from the throuble, bein' as he was a widower, an' she their wan
child.'

'Stop a minute, Mulvaney,' said I; 'how in the world did you come to
know these things?'

'How did I come?' said Mulvaney, with a scornful grunt; 'bekase I'm
turned durin' the Quane's pleasure to a lump av wood, lookin' out
straight forninst me, wid a--a--candelabbrum in my hand, for you to
pick your cards out av, must I not see nor feel? Av coorse I du! Up
my back, an' in my boots, an' in the short hair av the neck--that's
where I kape my eyes whin I'm on duty an' the reg'lar wans are fixed.
Know! Take my word for it, Sorr, ivrything an' a great dale more is
known in a rig'mint; or fwhat wud be the use av a Mess Sargint, or a
Sargint's wife doin' wet-nurse to the Major's baby? To reshume. He was
a bad dhrill was this Capt'n--a rotten bad dhrill--an' whin first I
ran me eye over him, I sez to myself: "My Militia bantam!" I sez, "My
cock av a Gosport dunghill"--'twas from Portsmouth he came to
us--"there's combs to be cut," sez I, "an' by the grace av God,'tis
Terence Mulvaney will cut thim."

'So he wint menowderin', and minanderin', an' blandandherin' roun' an'
about the Colonel's daughter, an' she, poor innocint, lookin' at him
like a Comm'ssariat bullock looks at the Comp'ny cook. He'd a dhirty
little scrub av a black moustache, an' he twisted an' turned ivry wurrd
he used as av he found ut too sweet for to spit out. Eyah! He was a
tricky man an' a liar by natur'. Some are born so. He was wan. I knew
he was over his belt in money borrowed from natives; besides a lot av
other matthers which, in regard for your presince, Sorr, I will
oblitherate. A little av fwhat I knew, the Colonel knew, for he wud
have none av him, an' that, I'm thinkin', by fwhat happened aftherwards,
the Capt'n knew.

'Wan day, bein' mortial idle, or they wud never ha' thried ut, the
rig'mint gave amshure theatricals--orf'cers an' orf'cers' ladies.
You've seen the likes time an' agin, Sorr, an' poor fun 'tis for them
that sit in the back row an' stamp wid their boots for the honour av
the rig'mint. I was told off for to shif' the scenes, haulin' up this
an' draggin' down that. Light work ut was, wid lashins av beer and the
gurl that dhressed the orf'cers' ladies--but she died in Aggra twelve
years gone, an' my tongue's gettin' the betther av me. They was actin'
a play thing called _Sweethearts_, which you may ha' heard av, an' the
Colonel's daughter she was a lady's maid. The Capt'n was a boy called
Broom--Spread Broom was his name in the play. Thin I saw --ut come
out in the actin'--fwhat I niver saw before, an' that was that he was
no gentleman. They was too much together, thim two, a-whishperin'
behind the scenes I shifted, an' some av what they said I heard; for
I was death--blue death an' ivy--on the comb-cuttin'. He was
iverlastin'ly oppressing her to fall in wid some sneakin' schame av
his, an' she was thryin' to stand out against him, but not as though
she was set in her will. I wonder now in thim days that my ears did
not grow a yard on me head wid list'nin'. But I looked straight forninst
me an' hauled up this an' dragged down that, such as was my duty, an'
the orf'cers' ladies sez one to another, thinkin' I was out av
listen-reach: "Fwhat an obligin' young man is this Corp'ril Mulvaney!"
I was a Corp'ril then. I was rejuced aftherwards, but, no matther, I
was a Corp'ril wanst.

'Well, this _Sweethearts'_ business wint on like most amshure
theatricals, an' barrin' fwhat I suspicioned, 'twasn't till the
dhress-rehearsal that I saw for certain that thim two--he the
blackguard, an' she no wiser than she should ha' been--had put up an
evasion.'

'A what?' said I.

'E-vasion! Fwhat you call an elopemint. E-vasion I calls it, bekaze,
exceptin' whin 'tis right an' natural an' proper, 'tis wrong an' dhirty
to steal a man's wan child she not knowin' her own mind. There was a
Sargint in the Comm'ssariat who set my face upon e-vasions. I'll tell
you about that--'

'Stick to the bloomin' Captains, Mulvaney,' said Ortheris; 'Comm'ssariat
Sargints is low.'

Mulvaney accepted the amendment and went on:--

'Now I knew that the Colonel was no fool, any more than me, for I was
hild the smartest man in the rig'mint, an' the Colonel was the best
orf'cer commandin' in Asia; so fwhat he said an' _I_ said was a mortial
truth. We knew that the Capt'n was bad, but, for reasons which I have
already oblitherated, I knew more than me Colonel. I wud ha' rolled
out his face wid the butt av my gun before permittin' av him to steal
the gurl. Saints knew av he wud ha' married her, and av he didn't she
wud be in great tormint, an' the divil av a "scandal." But I niver
sthruck, niver raised me hand on my shuperior orf'cer; an' that was
a merricle now I come to considher it.'

'Mulvaney, the dawn's risin',' said Ortheris, 'an' we're no nearer
'ome than we was at the beginnin'. Lend me your pouch. Mine's all
dust.'

Mulvaney pitched his pouch over, and filled his pipe afresh.

'So the dhress-rehearsal came to an end, an', bekaze I was curious,
I stayed behind whin the scene-shiftin' was ended, an' I shud ha' been
in barricks, lyin' as flat as a toad under a painted cottage thing.
They was talkin' in whispers, an' she was shiverin' an' gaspin' like
a fresh-hukked fish. "Are you sure you've got the hang av the
manewvers?" sez he, or wurrds to that effec', as the coort-martial
sez. "Sure as death," sez she, "but I misdoubt 'tis cruel hard on my
father." "Damn your father," sez he, or anyways 'twas fwhat he thought,
"the arrangement is as clear as mud. Jungi will drive the carr'ge
afther all's over, an' you come to the station, cool an' aisy, in time
for the two o'clock thrain, where I'll be wid your kit." "Faith,"
thinks I to myself, "thin there's a ayah in the business tu!"

'A powerful bad thing is a ayah. Don't you niver have any thruck wid
wan. Thin he began sootherin' her, an' all the orf'cers an' orf'cers'
ladies left, an' they put out the lights. To explain the theory av the
flight, as they say at Muskthry, you must understand that afther this
_Sweethearts'_ nonsinse was ended, there was another little bit av a
play called _Couples_--some kind av couple or another. The gurl was
actin' in this, but not the man. I suspicioned he'd go to the station
wid the gurl's kit at the end av the first piece. 'Twas the kit that
flusthered me, for I knew for a Capt'n to go trapesing about the impire
wid the Lord knew what av a _truso_ on his arrum was nefarious, an'
wud be worse than easin' the flag, so far as the talk aftherwards
wint.'

''Old on, Mulvaney. Wot's _truso_?' said Ortheris.

'You're an oncivilised man, me son. Whin a gurl's married, all her kit
an' 'coutrements are _truso_, which manes weddin'-portion. An' 'tis
the same whin she's runnin' away, even wid the biggest blackguard on
the Arrmy List.

'So I made my plan av campaign. The Colonel's house was a good two
miles away. "Dennis," sez I to my colour-sargint, "av you love me lend
me your kyart, for me heart is bruk an' me feet is sore wid trampin'
to and from this foolishness at the Gaff." An' Dennis lent ut, wid a
rampin', stampin' red stallion in the shafts. Whin they was all settled
down to their _Sweethearts_ for the first scene, which was a long wan,
I slips outside and into the kyart. Mother av Hivin! but I made that
horse walk, an' we came into the Colonel's compound as the divil wint
through Athlone--in standin' leps. There was no one there excipt the
servints, an' I wint round to the back an' found the girl's ayah.

'"Ye black brazen Jezebel," sez I, "sellin' your masther's honour for
five rupees--pack up all the Miss Sahib's kit an' look slippy! _Capt'n
Sahib's_ order," sez I. "Going to the station we are," I sez, an' wid
that I laid my finger to my nose an' looked the schamin' sinner I was.

_'"Bote acchy,"_ says she; so I knew she was in the business, an' I
piled up all the sweet talk I'd iver learnt in the bazars on to this
she-bullock, an' prayed av her to put all the quick she knew into the
thing. While she packed, I stud outside an' sweated, for I was wanted
for to shif the second scene. I tell you, a young gurl's e-vasion manes
as much baggage as a rig'mint on the line av march! "Saints help
Dennis's springs," thinks I, as I bundled the stuff into the thrap,
"for I'll have no mercy!"

'"I'm comin' too," says the ayah.

'"No, you don't," sez I, "later--_pechy!_ You _baito_ where you are.
I'll _pechy_ come an' bring you _sart_, along with me, you
maraudin'"-niver mind fwhat I called her.

'Thin I wint for the Gaff, an' by the special ordher av Providence,
for I was doin' a good work you will ondersthand, Dennis's springs
hild toight. "Now, whin the Capt'n goes for that kit," thinks I, "he'll
be throubled." At the end av _Sweethearts_ off the Capt'n runs in his
kyart to the Colonel's house, an' I sits down on the steps and laughs.
Wanst an' again I slipped in to see how the little piece was goin',
an' whin ut was near endin' I stepped out all among the carr'ges an'
sings out very softly, "Jungi!" Wid that a carr'ge began to move, an'
I waved to the dhriver. _"Hitherao!"_ sez I, an' he _hitheraoed_ till
I judged he was at proper distance, an' thin I tuk him, fair an' square
betune the eyes, all I knew for good or bad, an' he dhropped wid a
guggle like the canteen beer-engine whin ut's runnin' low. Thin I ran
to the kyart an' tuk out all the kit an' piled it into the carr'ge,
the sweat runnin' down my face in dhrops. "Go home," sez I, to the
_sais;_ "you'll find a man close here. Very sick he is. Take him away,
an' av you iver say wan wurrd about fwhat you've _dekkoed_, I'll
_marrow_ you till your own wife won't _sumjao_ who you are!" Thin I
heard the stampin' av feet at the ind av the play, an' I ran in to let
down the curtain. Whin they all came out the gurl thried to hide herself
behind wan av the pillars, an' sez "Jungi" in a voice that wouldn't
ha' scared a hare. I run over to Jungi's carr'ge an' tuk up the lousy
old horse-blanket on the box, wrapped my head an' the rest av me in
ut, an' dhrove up to where she was.

'"Miss Sahib," sez I; "going to the station? _Captain Sahib's_ order!"
an' widout a sign she jumped in all among her own kit.

'I laid to an' dhruv like steam to the Colonel's house before the
Colonel was there, an' she screamed an' I thought she was goin' off.
Out comes the ayah, saying all sorts av things about the Capt'n havin'
come for the kit an' gone to the station.

'"Take out the luggage, you divil," sez I, "or I'll murther you!"

'The lights av the thraps people comin' from the Gaff was showin'
across the parade ground, an', by this an' that, the way thim two women
worked at the bundles an' thrunks was a caution! I was dyin' to help,
but, seein' I didn't want to be known, I sat wid the blanket roun' me
an' coughed an' thanked the Saints there was no moon that night.

'Whin all was in the house again, I niver asked for _bukshish_ but
dhruv tremenjus in the opp'site way from the other carr'ge an' put out
my lights. Presintly, I saw a naygur man wallowin' in the road. I
slipped down before I got to him, for I suspicioned Providence was wid
me all through that night. 'Twas Jungi, his nose smashed in flat, all
dumb sick as you please. Dennis's man must have tilted him out av the
thrap. Whin he came to, "Hutt!" sez I, but he began to howl.

'"You black lump av dirt," I sez, "is this the way you dhrive your
_gharri?_ That _tikka_ has been _owin'_ an' _fere-owin'_ all over the
bloomin' country this whole bloomin' night, an' you as _mut-walla_ as
Davey's sow. Get up, you hog!" sez I, louder, for I heard the wheels
av a thrap in the dark; "get up an' light your lamps, or you'll be run
into!" This was on the road to the Railway Station.

'"Fwhat the divil's this?" sez the Capt'n's voice in the dhark, an'
I could judge he was in a lather av rage.

'"_Gharri_ dhriver here, dhrunk, Sorr," sez I; "I've found his _gharri_
sthrayin' about cantonmints, an' now I've found him."

'"Oh!" sez the Capt'n; "fwhat's his name?" I stooped down an' pretended
to listen.

'"He sez his name's Jungi, Sorr," sez I.

'"Hould my harse," sez the Capt'n to his man, an' wid that he gets
down wid the whip an' lays into Jungi, just mad wid rage an' swearin'
like the scutt he was.

'I thought, afther a while, he wud kill the man, so I sez:--"Stop,
Sorr, or you'll, murdher him!" That dhrew all his fire on me, an' he
cursed me into Blazes, an' out again. I stud to attenshin an' saluted:--
"Sorr," sez I, "av ivry man in this wurruld had his rights, I'm thinkin'
that more than wan wud be beaten to a jelly for this night's work--that
niver came off at all, Sorr, as you see?" "Now," thinks I to myself,
"Terence Mulvaney, you've cut your own throat, for he'll sthrike, an'
you'll knock him down for the good av his sowl an' your own iverlastin'
dishgrace!"

'But the Capt'n niver said a single wurrd. He choked where he stud,
an' thin he went into his thrap widout sayin' good-night, an' I wint
back to barricks.'

'And then?' said Ortheris and I together.

'That was all,' said Mulvaney; 'niver another word did I hear av the
whole thing. All I know was that there was no e-vasion, an' that was
fwhat I wanted. Now, I put ut to you, Sorr, is ten days' C. B. a fit
an' a proper tratement for a man who has behaved as me?'

'Well, any'ow,' said Ortheris,'tweren't this 'ere Colonel's daughter,
an' you _was_ blazin' copped when you tried to wash in the Fort Ditch.'

'That,' said Mulvaney, finishing the champagne, 'is a shuparfluous an'
impert'nint observation.'

OF THOSE CALLED

[Footnote: 1895]

We were wallowing through the China Seas in a dense fog, the horn
blowing every two minutes for the benefit of the fishery craft that
crowded the waterways. From the bridge the fo'c'sle was invisible;
from the hand-wheel at the stern the captain's cabin. The fog held
possession of everything--the pearly white fog. Once or twice when it
tried to lift, we saw a glimpse of the oily sea, the flitting vision
of a junk's sail spread in the vain hope of catching the breeze, or
the buoys of a line of nets. Somewhere close to us lay the land, but
it might have been the Kurile Islands for aught we knew. Very early
in the morning there passed us, not a cable's-length away, but as
unseen as the spirits of the dead, a steamer of the same line as ours.
She howled melodiously in answer to our bellowing, and passed on.

'Suppose she had hit us,' said a man from Saigon. 'Then we should have
gone down,' answered the chief officer sweetly. 'Beastly thing to
go down in a fog,' said a young gentleman who was travelling for
pleasure. 'Chokes a man both ways, y' know.' We were comfortably
gathered in the smoking-room, the weather being too cold to venture
on the deck. Conversation naturally turned upon accidents of fog, the
horn tooting significantly in the pauses between the tales. I heard
of the wreck of the _Eric_, the cutting down of the _Strathnairn_
within half a mile of harbour, and the carrying away of the bow plates
of the _Sigismund_ outside Sandy Hook.

'It is astonishing,' said the man from Saigon, 'how many true stories
are put down as sea yarns. It makes a man almost shrink from telling
an anecdote.'

'Oh, please don't shrink on our account,' said the smoking-room with
one voice.

'It's not my own story,' said the man from Saigon. 'A fellow on a
Massageries boat told it me. He had been third officer of a sort on
a Geordie tramp--one of those lumbering, dish-bottomed coal-barges
where the machinery is tied up with a string and the plates are rivetted
with putty. The way he told his tale was this. The tramp had been
creeping along some sea or other with a chart ten years old and the
haziest sort of chronometers when she got into a fog--just such a fog
as we have now.'

Here the smoking-room turned round as one man, and looked through the
windows.

'In the man's own words, "just when the fog was thickest, the engines
broke down. They had been doing this for some weeks, and we were too
weary to care. I went forward of the bridge, and leaned over the side,
wondering where I should ever get something that I could call a ship,
and whether the old hulk would fall to pieces as she lay. The fog was
as thick as any London one, but as white as steam. While they were
tinkering at the engines below, I heard a voice in the fog about twenty
yards from the ship's side, calling out, 'Can you climb on board if
we throw you a rope?' That startled me, because I fancied we were going
to be run down the next minute by a ship engaged in rescuing a man
overboard. I shouted for the engine-room whistle; and it whistled about
five minutes, but never the sound of a ship could we hear. The ship's
boy came forward with some biscuit for me. As he put it into my hand,
I heard the voice in the fog, crying out about throwing us a rope.
This time it was the boy that yelled, 'Ship on us!' and off went the
whistle again, while the men in the engine-room--it generally took the
ship's crew to repair the _Hespa's_ engines--tumbled upon deck to
know what we were doing. I told them about the hail, and we listened
in the smother of the fog for the sound of a screw. We listened for
ten minutes, then we blew the whistle for another ten. Then the crew
began to call the ship's boy a fool, meaning that the third mate was
no better. When they were going down below, I heard the hail the third
time, so did the ship's boy. 'There you are,' I said, 'it is not twenty
yards from us.' The engineer sings out, 'I heard it too! Are you all
asleep?' Then the crew began to swear at the engineer; and what with
discussion, argument, and a little swearing,--for there is not much
discipline on board a tramp,--we raised such a row that our skipper
came aft to enquire. I, the engineer, and the ship's boy stuck to our
tale. 'Voices or no voices,' said the captain, 'you'd better patch the
old engines up, and see if you've got enough steam to whistle with.
I've a notion that we've got into rather too crowded ways.'

'"The engineer stayed on deck while the men went down below. The skipper
hadn't got back to the chart-room before I saw thirty feet of bowsprit
hanging over the break of the fo'c'sle. Thirty feet of bowsprit, sir,
doesn't belong to anything that sails the seas except a sailing-ship
or a man-of-war. I speculated quite a long time, with my hands on the
bulwarks, as to whether our friend was soft wood or steel plated. It
would not have made much difference to us, anyway; but I felt there
was more honour in being rammed, you know. Then I knew all about it.
It was a ram. We opened out. I am not exaggerating--we opened out,
sir, like a cardboard box. The other ship cut us two-thirds through,
a little behind the break of the fo'c'sle. Our decks split up
lengthways. The mizzen-mast bounded out of its place, and we heeled
over. Then the other ship blew a fog-horn. I remember thinking, as I
took water from the port bulwark, that this was rather ostentatious
after she had done all the mischief. After that, I was a mile and a
half under sea, trying to go to sleep as hard as I could. Some one
caught hold of my hair, and waked me up. I was hanging to what was
left of one of our boats under the lee of a large English ironclad.
There were two men with me; the three of us began to yell. A man on
the ship sings out, 'Can you climb on board if we throw you a rope?'
They weren't going to let down a fine new man-of-war's boat to pick
up three half-drowned rats. We accepted the invitation. We climbed--I,
the engineer, and the ship's boy. About half an hour later the fog
cleared entirely; except for the half of the boat away in the offing,
there was neither stick nor string on the sea to show that the _Hespa_
had been cut down."

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