human
A mail-carrier,
gpt
Here, you, what comes?
human
Salaam, Bahadur Sahib; it is war.
gpt
Thou art a tree owl, and Barlow laughed.
human
A war does not spring up like a drift of driven dust. Is it some raja's elephants and carts with his harem going to a _durbar_?
gpt
Sahib, it is, as I have said, war. The big brass cannon that is called 'The Humbler of Cities,' goes forth to speak its order, and with it are sepoys to feed it the food of destruction. Beyond that I know not, Sahib, for I am a man of peace, being but a runner of the post.