‘Well,’ says he, ‘we can make a bloody good fight of it. We can die like Englishmen, ’stead of like dogs. ‘What difference does it make whether you die like an Englishman or like a bloody Eskimo?’ says I, and he just stared at me and then went on chafing my arms.
Flashman, p.219, Pan edition, 12th printing, 1979.