In one of the lesser Indian hill wars an English detachment took an Afghan prisoner. The Afghan was very dirty. Accordingly two privates were deputed to strip and wash him.
The privates dragged the man to a stream of running water, undressed him, plunged him in, and set upon him lustily with stiff brushes and large cakes of white soap.
After a long time one of the privates came back to make a report. He saluted his officer and said disconsolately:
"It's no use, sir. It's no use."
"No use?" said the officer. "What do you mean? Haven't you washed that Afghan yet?"
"It's no use, sir," the private repeated. "We've washed him for two hours, but it's no use."
"How do you mean it's no use?" said the officer angrily.
"Why, sir," said the private, "after rubbin' him and scrubbin' him till our arms ached I'll be hanged if we didn't come to another suit of clothes."
