Life's Handicap: Being Stories of Mine Own People

  THE INCARNATION OF KRISHNA MULVANEY

  Wohl auf, my bully cavaliers, We ride to church to-day, The man that hasn't got a horse Must steal one straight away.

  Be reverent, men, remember This is a Gottes haus. Du, Conrad, cut along der aisle And schenck der whiskey aus. HANS BREITMANN'S RIDE TO CHURCH.

  Once upon a time, very far from England, there lived three men who lovedeach other so greatly that neither man nor woman could come betweenthem. They were in no sense refined, nor to be admitted to theouter-door mats of decent folk, because they happened to be privatesoldiers in Her Majesty's Army; and private soldiers of our service havesmall time for self-culture. Their duty is to keep themselves and theiraccoutrements specklessly clean, to refrain from getting drunk moreoften than is necessary, to obey their superiors, and to pray for a war.All these things my friends accomplished; and of their own motion threwin some fighting-work for which the Army Regulations did not call. Theirfate sent them to serve in India, which is not a golden country, thoughpoets have sung otherwise. There men die with great swiftness, and thosewho live suffer many and curious things. I do not think that my friendsconcerned themselves much with the social or political aspects of theEast. They attended a not unimportant war on the northern frontier,another one on our western boundary, and a third in Upper Burma. Thentheir regiment sat still to recruit, and the boundless monotony ofcantonment life was their portion. They were drilled morning and eveningon the same dusty parade-ground. They wandered up and down the samestretch of dusty white road, attended the same church and the samegrog-shop, and slept in the same lime-washed barn of a barrack for twolong years. There was Mulvaney, the father in the craft, who had servedwith various regiments from Bermuda to Halifax, old in war, scarred,reckless, resourceful, and in his pious hours an unequalled soldier.To him turned for help and comfort six and a half feet of slow-moving,heavy-footed Yorkshireman, born on the wolds, bred in the dales,and educated chiefly among the carriers' carts at the back of Yorkrailway-station. His name was Learoyd, and his chief virtue anunmitigated patience which helped him to win fights. How Ortheris, afox-terrier of a Cockney, ever came to be one of the trio, is a mysterywhich even to-day I cannot explain. 'There was always three av us,'Mulvaney used to say. 'An' by the grace av God, so long as our servicelasts, three av us they'll always be. 'Tis betther so.'

  They desired no companionship beyond their own, and it was evil for anyman of the regiment who attempted dispute with them. Physical argumentwas out of the question as regarded Mulvaney and the Yorkshireman; andassault on Ortheris meant a combined attack from these twain--a businesswhich no five men were anxious to have on their hands. Therefore theyflourished, sharing their drinks, their tobacco, and their money; goodluck and evil; battle and the chances of death; life and the chances ofhappiness from Calicut in southern, to Peshawur in northern India.

  Through no merit of my own it was my good fortune to be in a measureadmitted to their friendship--frankly by Mulvaney from the beginning,sullenly and with reluctance by Learoyd, and suspiciously by Ortheris,who held to it that no man not in the Army could fraternise with ared-coat. 'Like to like,' said he. 'I'm a bloomin' sodger--he's abloomin' civilian. 'Tain't natural--that's all.'

  But that was not all. They thawed progressively, and in the thawing toldme more of their lives and adventures than I am ever likely to write.

  Omitting all else, this tale begins with the Lamentable Thirst that wasat the beginning of First Causes. Never was such a thirst--Mulvaney toldme so. They kicked against their compulsory virtue, but the attempt wasonly successful in the case of Ortheris. He, whose talents weremany, went forth into the highways and stole a dog from a'civilian'--videlicet, some one, he knew not who, not in the Army. Nowthat civilian was but newly connected by marriage with the colonel ofthe regiment, and outcry was made from quarters least anticipated byOrtheris, and, in the end, he was forced, lest a worse thing shouldhappen, to dispose at ridiculously unremunerative rates of as promisinga small terrier as ever graced one end of a leading string. Thepurchase-money was barely sufficient for one small outbreak which ledhim to the guard-room. He escaped, however, with nothing worse than asevere reprimand, and a few hours of punishment drill. Not for nothinghad he acquired the reputation of being 'the best soldier of his inches'in the regiment. Mulvaney had taught personal cleanliness and efficiencyas the first articles of his companions' creed. 'A dhirty man,' he wasused to say, in the speech of his kind, 'goes to Clink for a weaknessin the knees, an' is coort-martialled for a pair av socks missin'; buta clane man, such as is an ornament to his service--a man whose buttonsare gold, whose coat is wax upon him, an' whose 'coutrements are widouta speck--THAT man may, spakin' in reason, do fwhat he likes an' dhrinkfrom day to divil. That's the pride av bein' dacint.'

  We sat together, upon a day, in the shade of a ravine far from thebarracks, where a watercourse used to run in rainy weather. Behind uswas the scrub jungle, in which jackals, peacocks, the gray wolves of theNorth-Western Provinces, and occasionally a tiger estrayed from CentralIndia, were supposed to dwell. In front lay the cantonment, glaringwhite under a glaring sun; and on either side ran the broad road thatled to Delhi.

  It was the scrub that suggested to my mind the wisdom of Mulvaney takinga day's leave and going upon a shooting-tour. The peacock is a holy birdthroughout India, and he who slays one is in danger of being mobbed bythe nearest villagers; but on the last occasion that Mulvaney had goneforth, he had contrived, without in the least offending local religioussusceptibilities, to return with six beautiful peacock skins which hesold to profit. It seemed just possible then--

  'But fwhat manner av use is ut to me goin' out widout a dhrink? Theground's powdher-dhry underfoot, an' ut gets unto the throat fit tokill,' wailed Mulvaney, looking at me reproachfully. 'An' a peacock isnot a bird you can catch the tail av onless ye run. Can a man run onwather--an' jungle-wather too?'

  Ortheris had considered the question in all its bearings. He spoke,chewing his pipe-stem meditatively the while:

  'Go forth, return in glory, To Clusium's royal 'ome: An' round these bloomin' temples 'ang The bloomin' shields o' Rome.

  You better go. You ain't like to shoot yourself--not while there's achanst of liquor. Me an' Learoyd'll stay at 'ome an' keep shop--'caseo' anythin' turnin' up. But you go out with a gas-pipe gun an' ketchthe little peacockses or somethin'. You kin get one day's leave easy aswinkin'. Go along an' get it, an' get peacockses or somethin'.'

  'Jock,' said Mulvaney, turning to Learoyd, who was half asleep under theshadow of the bank. He roused slowly.

  'Sitha, Mulvaaney, go,' said he.

  And Mulvaney went; cursing his allies with Irish fluency andbarrack-room point.

  'Take note,' said he, when he had won his holiday, and appeared dressedin his roughest clothes with the only other regimental fowling-piece inhis hand. 'Take note, Jock, an' you Orth'ris, I am goin' in the faceav my own will--all for to please you. I misdoubt anythin' will come avpermiscuous huntin' afther peacockses in a desolit lan'; an' I know thatI will lie down an' die wid thirrrst. Me catch peacockses for you, yelazy scutts--an' be sacrificed by the peasanthry--Ugh!'

  He waved a huge paw and went away.

  At twilight, long before the appointed hour, he returned empty-handed,much begrimed with dirt.

  'Peacockses?' queried Ortheris from the safe rest of a barrack-roomtable whereon he was smoking cross-legged, Learoyd fast asleep on abench.

  'Jock,' said Mulvaney without answering, as he stirred up the sleeper.'Jock, can ye fight? Will ye fight?'

  Very slowly the meaning of the words communicated itself to thehalf-roused man. He understood--and again--what might these things mean?Mulvaney was shaking him savagely. Meantime the men in the room howledwith delight. There was war in the confederacy at last--war and thebreaking of bonds.

  Barrack-room etiquette is stringent. On the direct challenge mustfollow the direct reply. This is more binding than the ties of triedfriendship. Once again Mul
vaney repeated the question. Learoyd answeredby the only means in his power, and so swiftly that the Irishman hadbarely time to avoid the blow. The laughter around increased. Learoydlooked bewilderedly at his friend--himself as greatly bewildered.Ortheris dropped from the table because his world was falling.

  'Come outside,' said Mulvaney, and as the occupants of the barrack-roomprepared joyously to follow, he turned and said furiously, 'There willbe no fight this night--onless any wan av you is wishful to assist. Theman that does, follows on.'

  No man moved. The three passed out into the moonlight, Learoyd fumblingwith the buttons of his coat. The parade-ground was deserted except forthe scurrying jackals. Mulvaney's impetuous rush carried his companionsfar into the open ere Learoyd attempted to turn round and continue thediscussion.

  'Be still now. 'Twas my fault for beginnin' things in the middle av anend, Jock. I should ha' comminst wid an explanation; but Jock, dear,on your sowl are ye fit, think you, for the finest fight that iverwas--betther than fightin' me? Considher before ye answer.'

  More than ever puzzled, Learoyd turned round two or three times, felt anarm, kicked tentatively, and answered, 'Ah'm fit.' He was accustomed tofight blindly at the bidding of the superior mind.

  They sat them down, the men looking on from afar, and Mulvaney untangledhimself in mighty words.

  'Followin' your fools' scheme I wint out into the thrackless desertbeyond the barricks. An' there I met a pious Hindu dhriving abullock-kyart. I tuk ut for granted he wud be delighted for to convoy mea piece, an' I jumped in--'

  'You long, lazy, black-haired swine,' drawled Ortheris, who would havedone the same thing under similar circumstances.

  ''Twas the height av policy. That naygur-man dhruv miles an' miles--asfar as the new railway line they're buildin' now back av the Tavi river."'Tis a kyart for dhirt only," says he now an' again timoreously, toget me out av ut. "Dhirt I am," sez I, "an' the dhryest that you iverkyarted. Dhrive on, me son, an glory be wid you." At that I wint toslape, an' took no heed till he pulled up on the embankmint av the linewhere the coolies were pilin' mud. There was a matther av two thousandcoolies on that line--you remimber that. Prisintly a bell rang, an' theythroops off to a big pay-shed. "Where's the white man in charge?" sez Ito my kyart-dhriver. "In the shed," sez he, "engaged on a riffle."--"Afwhat?" sez I. "Riffle," sez he. "You take ticket. He take money. Youget nothin'."--

  "Oho!" sez I, "that's fwhat the shuperior an' cultivated man callsa raffle, me misbeguided child av darkness an' sin. Lead on to thatraffle, though fwhat the mischief 'tis doin' so far away from utshome--which is the charity-bazaar at Christmas, an' the colonel's wifegrinnin' behind the tea-table--is more than I know." Wid that I wint tothe shed an' found 'twas pay-day among the coolies. Their wages was on atable forninst a big, fine, red buck av a man--sivun fut high, four futwide, an' three fut thick, wid a fist on him like a corn-sack. He waspayin' the coolies fair an' easy, but he wud ask each man if he wudraffle that month, an' each man sez? "Yes," av course. Thin he wuddeduct from their wages accordin'. Whin all was paid, he filled an ouldcigar-box full av gun-wads an' scatthered ut among the coolies. They didnot take much joy av that performince, an' small wondher. A man close tome picks up a black gun-wad an' sings out, "I have ut."--"Good may utdo you," sez I. The coolie wint forward to this big, fine, red man, whothrew a cloth off av the most sumpshus, jooled, enamelled an' variouslybedivilled sedan-chair I iver saw.'

  'Sedan-chair! Put your 'ead in a bag. That was a palanquin. Don't yerknow a palanquin when you see it?' said Ortheris with great scorn.

  'I chuse to call ut sedan-chair, an' chair ut shall be, little man,'continued the Irishman. ''Twas a most amazin' chair--all lined wid pinksilk an' fitted wid red silk curtains. "Here ut is," sez the red man."Here ut is," sez the coolie, an' he grinned weakly-ways. "Is ut anyuse to you?" sez the red man. "No," sez the coolie; "I'd like to make apresint av ut to you."--"I am graciously pleased to accept that same,"sez the red man; an' at that all the coolies cried aloud in fwhat wasmint for cheerful notes, an' wint back to their diggin', lavin' me alonein the shed. The red man saw me, an' his face grew blue on his big, fatneck. "Fwhat d'you want here?" sez he. "Standin'-room an' no more," sezI, "onless it may be fwhat ye niver had, an' that's manners, ye rafflin'ruffian," for I was not goin' to have the Service throd upon. "Out ofthis," sez he. "I'm in charge av this section av construction."--"I'min charge av mesilf," sez I, "an' it's like I will stay a while. D'yeraffle much in these parts?"--"Fwhat's that to you?" sez he. "Nothin',"sez I, "but a great dale to you, for begad I'm thinkin' you get the fullhalf av your revenue from that sedan-chair. Is ut always raffled so?" Isez, an' wid that I wint to a coolie to ask questions. Bhoys, that man'sname is Dearsley, an' he's been rafflin' that ould sedan-chair monthlythis matther av nine months. Ivry coolie on the section takes aticket--or he gives 'em the go--wanst a month on pay-day. Ivry cooliethat wins ut gives ut back to him, for 'tis too big to carry away, an'he'd sack the man that thried to sell ut. That Dearsley has been makin'the rowlin' wealth av Roshus by nefarious rafflin'. Think av the burnin'shame to the sufferin' coolie-man that the army in Injia are bound toprotect an' nourish in their bosoms! Two thousand coolies defraudedwanst a month!'

  'Dom t' coolies. Has't gotten t' cheer, man?' said Learoyd.

  'Hould on. Havin' onearthed this amazin' an' stupenjus fraud committedby the man Dearsley, I hild a council av war; he thryin' all the time tosejuce me into a fight with opprobrious language. That sedan-chair niverbelonged by right to any foreman av coolies. 'Tis a king's chair or aquane's. There's gold on ut an' silk an' all manner av trapesemints.Bhoys, 'tis not for me to countenance any sort av wrong-doin'--me bein'the ould man--but--anyway he has had ut nine months, an' he dare notmake throuble av ut was taken from him. Five miles away, or ut may besix--'

  There was a long pause, and the jackals howled merrily. Learoyd baredone arm, and contemplated it in the moonlight. Then he nodded partlyto himself and partly to his friends. Ortheris wriggled with suppressedemotion.

  'I thought ye wud see the reasonableness av ut,' said Mulvaney. 'Imade bould to say as much to the man before. He was for a direct frontattack--fut, horse, an' guns--an' all for nothin', seein' that I had nothransport to convey the machine away. "I will not argue wid you," sezI, "this day, but subsequently, Mister Dearsley, me rafflin' jool, wetalk ut out lengthways. 'Tis no good policy to swindle the naygur av hishard-earned emolumints, an' by presint informashin'"--'twas the kyartman that tould me--"ye've been perpethrating that same for nine months.But I'm a just man," sez I, "an' overlookin' the presumpshin thatyondher settee wid the gilt top was not come by honust"--at that heturned sky-green, so I knew things was more thrue than tellable--"notcome by honust, I'm willin' to compound the felony for this month'swinnin's."'

  'Ah! Ho!' from Learoyd and Ortheris.

  'That man Dearsley's rushin' on his fate,' continued Mulvaney, solemnlywagging his head. 'All Hell had no name bad enough for me that tide.Faith, he called me a robber! Me! that was savin' him from continuin'in his evil ways widout a remonstrince--an' to a man av consciencea remonstrince may change the chune av his life. "'Tis not for me toargue," sez I, "fwhatever ye are, Mister Dearsley, but, by my hand, I'lltake away the temptation for you that lies in that sedan-chair."--"Youwill have to fight me for ut," sez he, "for well I know you will neverdare make report to any one."--"Fight I will," sez I, "but not this day,for I'm rejuced for want av nourishment."--"Ye're an ould bould hand,"sez he, sizin' me up an' down; "an' a jool av a fight we will have.Eat now an' dhrink, an' go your way." Wid that he gave me some hump an'whisky--good whisky--an' we talked av this an' that the while. "It goeshard on me now," sez I, wipin' my mouth, "to confiscate that piece avfurniture, but justice is justice."--"Ye've not got ut yet," sez he;"there's the fight between."--"There is," sez I, "an' a good fight. Yeshall have the pick av the best quality in my rigimint for the dinneryou have given this day." Thin I came hot-foot to you two. Hould yourtongue, the both. 'Tis this way. To-morrow we three will go the
re an' heshall have his pick betune me an' Jock. Jock's a deceivin' fighter, forhe is all fat to the eye, an' he moves slow. Now, I'm all beef to thelook, an' I move quick. By my reckonin' the Dearsley man won't take me;so me an' Orth'ris 'll see fair play. Jock, I tell you,'twill be bigfightin'--whipped, wid the cream above the jam. Afther the business'twill take a good three av us--Jock 'll be very hurt--to haul away thatsedan-chair.'

  'Palanquin.' This from Ortheris.

  'Fwhatever ut is, we must have ut. 'Tis the only sellin' piece avproperty widin reach that we can get so cheap. An' fwhat's a fightafther all? He has robbed the naygur-man, dishonust. We rob him honustfor the sake av the whisky he gave me.'

  'But wot'll we do with the bloomin' article when we've got it? Thempalanquins are as big as 'ouses, an' uncommon 'ard to sell, as McClearysaid when ye stole the sentry-box from the Curragh.'

  'Who's goin' to do t' fightin'?' said Learoyd, and Ortheris subsided.The three returned to barracks without a word. Mulvaney's last argumentclinched the matter. This palanquin was property, vendible, and tobe attained in the simplest and least embarrassing fashion. It wouldeventually become beer. Great was Mulvaney.

  Next afternoon a procession of three formed itself and disappeared intothe scrub in the direction of the new railway line. Learoyd alone waswithout care, for Mulvaney dived darkly into the future, and littleOrtheris feared the unknown. What befell at that interview in the lonelypay-shed by the side of the half-built embankment, only a few hundredcoolies know, and their tale is confusing one, running thus--

  'We were at work. Three men in red coats came. They saw theSahib--Dearsley Sahib. They made oration; and noticeably the small manamong the red-coats. Dearsley Sahib also made oration, and used manyvery strong words. Upon this talk they departed together to an openspace, and there the fat man in the red coat fought with Dearsley Sahibafter the custom of white men--with his hands, making no noise, andnever at all pulling Dearsley Sahib's hair. Such of us as were notafraid beheld these things for just so long a time as a man needs tocook the mid-day meal. The small man in the red coat had possessedhimself of Dearsley Sahib's watch. No, he did not steal that watch. Heheld it in his hand, and at certain seasons made outcry, and the twainceased their combat, which was like the combat of young bulls in spring.Both men were soon all red, but Dearsley Sahib was much more red thanthe other. Seeing this, and fearing for his life--because we greatlyloved him--some fifty of us made shift to rush upon the red-coats. Buta certain man--very black as to the hair, and in no way to be confusedwith the small man, or the fat man who fought--that man, we affirm, ranupon us, and of us he embraced some ten or fifty in both arms, and beatour heads together, so that our livers turned to water, and we ran away.It is not good to interfere in the fightings of white men. After thatDearsley Sahib fell and did not rise, these men jumped upon his stomachand despoiled him of all his money, and attempted to fire the pay-shed,and departed. Is it true that Dearsley Sahib makes no complaint of theselatter things having been done? We were senseless with fear, and do notat all remember. There was no palanquin near the pay-shed. What do weknow about palanquins? Is it true that Dearsley Sahib does not return tothis place, on account of his sickness, for ten days? This is the faultof those bad men in the red coats, who should be severely punished; forDearsley Sahib is both our father and mother, and we love him much. Yet,if Dearsley Sahib does not return to this place at all, we will speakthe truth. There was a palanquin, for the up-keep of which we wereforced to pay nine-tenths of our monthly wage. On such mulctingsDearsley Sahib allowed us to make obeisance to him before the palanquin.What could we do? We were poor men. He took a full half of our wages.Will the Government repay us those moneys? Those three men in red coatsbore the palanquin upon their shoulders and departed. All the money thatDearsley Sahib had taken from us was in the cushions of that palanquin.Therefore they stole it. Thousands of rupees were there--all our money.It was our bank-box, to fill which we cheerfully contributed to DearsleySahib three-sevenths of our monthly wage. Why does the white man lookupon us with the eye of disfavour? Before God, there was a palanquin,and now there is no palanquin; and if they send the police here to makeinquisition, we can only say that there never has been any palanquin.Why should a palanquin be near these works? We are poor men, and we knownothing.'

  Such is the simplest version of the simplest story connected with thedescent upon Dearsley. From the lips of the coolies I received it.Dearsley himself was in no condition to say anything, and Mulvaneypreserved a massive silence, broken only by the occasional licking ofthe lips. He had seen a fight so gorgeous that even his power of speechwas taken from him. I respected that reserve until, three days after theaffair, I discovered in a disused stable in my quarters a palanquin ofunchastened splendour--evidently in past days the litter of a queen. Thepole whereby it swung between the shoulders of the bearers was rich withthe painted papier-mache of Cashmere. The shoulder-pads were of yellowsilk. The panels of the litter itself were ablaze with the loves ofall the gods and goddesses of the Hindu Pantheon--lacquer on cedar. Thecedar sliding doors were fitted with hasps of translucent Jaipur enameland ran in grooves shod with silver. The cushions were of brocaded Delhisilk, and the curtains which once hid any glimpse of the beauty of theking's palace were stiff with gold. Closer investigation showed that theentire fabric was everywhere rubbed and discoloured by time and wear;but even thus it was sufficiently gorgeous to deserve housing on thethreshold of a royal zenana. I found no fault with it, except thatit was in my stable. Then, trying to lift it by the silver-shodshoulder-pole, I laughed. The road from Dearsley's pay-shed to thecantonment was a narrow and uneven one, and, traversed by three veryinexperienced palanquin-bearers, one of whom was sorely battered aboutthe head, must have been a path of torment. Still I did not quiterecognise the right of the three musketeers to turn me into a 'fence'for stolen property.

  'I'm askin' you to warehouse ut,' said Mulvaney when he was brought toconsider the question. 'There's no steal in ut. Dearsley tould us we cudhave ut if we fought. Jock fought--an', oh, sorr, when the throublewas at uts finest an' Jock was bleedin' like a stuck pig, an' littleOrth'ris was shquealin' on one leg chewin' big bites out av Dearsley'swatch, I wud ha' given my place at the fight to have had you see wanround. He tuk Jock, as I suspicioned he would, an' Jock was deceptive.Nine roun's they were even matched, an' at the tenth--About thatpalanquin now. There's not the least throuble in the world, or we wudnot ha' brought ut here. You will ondherstand that the Queen--Godbless her!--does not reckon for a privit soldier to kape elephints an'palanquins an' sich in barricks. Afther we had dhragged ut down fromDearsley's through that cruel scrub that near broke Orth'ris's heart,we set ut in the ravine for a night; an' a thief av a porcupine an' acivet-cat av a jackal roosted in ut, as well we knew in the mornin'. Iput ut to you, sorr, is an elegint palanquin, fit for the princess, thenatural abidin' place av all the vermin in cantonmints? We brought utto you, afther dhark, and put ut in your shtable. Do not letyour conscience prick. Think av the rejoicin' men in the pay-shedyonder--lookin' at Dearsley wid his head tied up in a towel--an' wellknowin' that they can dhraw their pay ivry month widout stoppages forriffles. Indirectly, sorr, you have rescued from an onprincipled son ava night-hawk the peasanthry av a numerous village. An' besides, will Ilet that sedan-chair rot on our hands? Not I. 'Tis not every day a pieceav pure joolry comes into the market. There's not a king widin theseforty miles'--he waved his hand round the dusty horizon--'not a king wudnot be glad to buy ut. Some day meself, whin I have leisure, I'll takeut up along the road an' dishpose av ut.'

  'How?' said I, for I knew the man was capable of anything.

  'Get into ut, av coorse, and keep wan eye open through the curtains.Whin I see a likely man av the native persuasion, I will descindblushin' from my canopy and say, "Buy a palanquin, ye black scutt?"I will have to hire four men to carry me first, though; and that'simpossible till next pay-day.'

  Curiously enough, Learoyd, who had fought for the prize, and inthe winning secured the hi
ghest pleasure life had to offer him, wasaltogether disposed to undervalue it, while Ortheris openly said itwould be better to break the thing up. Dearsley, he argued, might be amany-sided man, capable, despite his magnificent fighting qualities, ofsetting in motion the machinery of the civil law--a thing much abhorredby the soldier. Under any circumstances their fun had come and passed;the next pay-day was close at hand, when there would be beer for all.Wherefore longer conserve the painted palanquin?

  'A first-class rifle-shot an' a good little man av your inches you are,'said Mulvaney. 'But you niver had a head worth a soft-boiled egg. 'Tisme has to lie awake av nights schamin' an' plottin' for the three avus. Orth'ris, me son, 'tis no matther av a few gallons av beer--no, nortwenty gallons--but tubs an' vats an' firkins in that sedan-chair. Whout was, an' what ut was, an' how ut got there, we do not know; but Iknow in my bones that you an' me an' Jock wid his sprained thumb willget a fortune thereby. Lave me alone, an' let me think.'

  Meantime the palanquin stayed in my stall, the key of which was inMulvaney's hands.

  Pay-day came, and with it beer. It was not in experience to hope thatMulvaney, dried by four weeks' drought, would avoid excess. Next morninghe and the palanquin had disappeared. He had taken the precaution ofgetting three days' leave 'to see a friend on the railway,' and thecolonel, well knowing that the seasonal outburst was near, and hoping itwould spend its force beyond the limits of his jurisdiction, cheerfullygave him all he demanded. At this point Mulvaney's history, as recordedin the mess-room, stopped.

  Ortheris carried it not much further. 'No, 'e wasn't drunk,' said thelittle man loyally, 'the liquor was no more than feelin' its way roundinside of 'im; but 'e went an' filled that 'ole bloomin' palanquin withbottles 'fore 'e went off. 'E's gone an' 'ired six men to carry 'im,an' I 'ad to 'elp 'im into 'is nupshal couch, 'cause 'e wouldn't'ear reason. 'E's gone off in 'is shirt an' trousies, swearin'tremenjus--gone down the road in the palanquin, wavin' 'is legs out o'windy.'

  'Yes,' said I, 'but where?'

  'Now you arx me a question. 'E said 'e was goin' to sell that palanquin,but from observations what happened when I was stuffin' 'im through thedoor, I fancy 'e's gone to the new embankment to mock at Dearsley. 'Soonas Jock's off duty I'm goin' there to see if 'e's safe--not Mulvaney,but t'other man. My saints, but I pity 'im as 'elps Terence out o' thepalanquin when 'e's once fair drunk!'

  'He'll come back without harm,' I said.

  ''Corse 'e will. On'y question is, what 'll 'e be doin' on the road?Killing Dearsley, like as not. 'E shouldn't 'a gone without Jock or me.'

  Reinforced by Learoyd, Ortheris sought the foreman of the coolie-gang.Dearsley's head was still embellished with towels. Mulvaney, drunkor sober, would have struck no man in that condition, and Dearsleyindignantly denied that he would have taken advantage of the intoxicatedbrave.

  'I had my pick o' you two,' he explained to Learoyd, 'and you got mypalanquin--not before I'd made my profit on it. Why'd I do harm wheneverything's settled? Your man DID come here--drunk as Davy's sow on afrosty night--came a-purpose to mock me--stuck his head out of thedoor an' called me a crucified hodman. I made him drunker, an' sent himalong. But I never touched him.'

  To these things, Learoyd, slow to perceive the evidences of sincerity,answered only, 'If owt comes to Mulvaaney 'long o' you, I'll grippleyou, clouts or no clouts on your ugly head, an' I'll draw t' throattwistyways, man. See there now.'

  The embassy removed itself, and Dearsley, the battered, laughed aloneover his supper that evening.

  Three days passed--a fourth and a fifth. The week drew to a closeand Mulvaney did not return. He, his royal palanquin, and his sixattendants, had vanished into air. A very large and very tipsy soldier,his feet sticking out of the litter of a reigning princess, is not athing to travel along the ways without comment. Yet no man of all thecountry round had seen any such wonder. He was, and he was not; andLearoyd suggested the immediate smashment of Dearsley as a sacrifice tohis ghost. Ortheris insisted that all was well, and in the light of pastexperience his hopes seemed reasonable.

  'When Mulvaney goes up the road,' said he, ''e's like to go a very longways up, specially when 'e's so blue drunk as 'e is now. But what gitsme is 'is not bein' 'eard of pullin' wool off the niggers somewheresabout. That don't look good. The drink must ha' died out in 'im by this,unless 'e's broke a bank, an' then--Why don't 'e come back? 'E didn'tought to ha' gone off without us.'

  Even Ortheris's heart sank at the end of the seventh day, for half theregiment were out scouring the country-side, and Learoyd had been forcedto fight two men who hinted openly that Mulvaney had deserted. To do himjustice, the colonel laughed at the notion, even when it was put forwardby his much-trusted adjutant.

  'Mulvaney would as soon think of deserting as you would,' said he. 'No;he's either fallen into a mischief among the villagers--and yet thatisn't likely, for he'd blarney himself out of the Pit; or else he isengaged on urgent private affairs--some stupendous devilment that weshall hear of at mess after it has been the round of the barrack-rooms.The worst of it is that I shall have to give him twenty-eight days'confinement at least for being absent without leave, just when I mostwant him to lick the new batch of recruits into shape. I never knew aman who could put a polish on young soldiers as quickly as Mulvaney can.How does he do it?'

  'With blarney and the buckle-end of a belt, sir,' said the adjutant. 'Heis worth a couple of non-commissioned officers when we are dealing withan Irish draft, and the London lads seem to adore him. The worst of itis that if he goes to the cells the other two are neither to hold norto bind till he comes out again. I believe Ortheris preaches mutiny onthose occasions, and I know that the mere presence of Learoyd mourningfor Mulvaney kills all the cheerfulness of his room. The sergeants tellme that he allows no man to laugh when he feels unhappy. They are aqueer gang.'

  'For all that, I wish we had a few more of them. I like a well-conductedregiment, but these pasty-faced, shifty-eyed, mealy-mouthed youngslouchers from the depot worry me sometimes with their offensive virtue.They don't seem to have backbone enough to do anything but play cardsand prowl round the married quarters. I believe I'd forgive that oldvillain on the spot if he turned up with any sort of explanation that Icould in decency accept.'

  'Not likely to be much difficulty about that, sir,' said the adjutant.'Mulvaney's explanations are only one degree less wonderful than hisperformances. They say that when he was in the Black Tyrone, before hecame to us, he was discovered on the banks of the Liffey trying to sellhis colonel's charger to a Donegal dealer as a perfect lady's hack.Shackbolt commanded the Tyrone then.'

  'Shackbolt must have had apoplexy at the thought of his rampingwar-horses answering to that description. He used to buy unbackeddevils, and tame them on some pet theory of starvation. What didMulvaney say?'

  'That he was a member of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty toAnimals, anxious to "sell the poor baste where he would get somethingto fill out his dimples." Shackbolt laughed, but I fancy that was whyMulvaney exchanged to ours.'

  'I wish he were back,' said the colonel; 'for I like him and believe helikes me.'

  That evening, to cheer our souls, Learoyd, Ortheris, and I went into thewaste to smoke out a porcupine. All the dogs attended, but even theirclamour--and they began to discuss the shortcomings of porcupines beforethey left cantonments--could not take us out of ourselves. A large,low moon turned the tops of the plume-grass to silver, and the stuntedcamelthorn bushes and sour tamarisks into the likenesses of troopingdevils. The smell of the sun had not left the earth, and little aimlesswinds blowing across the rose-gardens to the southward brought the scentof dried roses and water. Our fire once started, and the dogs craftilydisposed to wait the dash of the porcupine, we climbed to the top of arain-scarred hillock of earth, and looked across the scrub seamed withcattle paths, white with the long grass, and dotted with spots of levelpond-bottom, where the snipe would gather in winter.

  'This,' said Ortheris, with a sigh, as he took in the unkempt
desolationof it all, 'this is sanguinary. This is unusually sanguinary. Sort o'mad country. Like a grate when the fire's put out by the sun.' He shadedhis eyes against the moonlight. 'An' there's a loony dancin' in themiddle of it all. Quite right. I'd dance too if I wasn't so downheart.'

  There pranced a Portent in the face of the moon--a huge and raggedspirit of the waste, that flapped its wings from afar. It had risen outof the earth; it was coming towards us, and its outline was never twicethe same. The toga, table-cloth, or dressing-gown, whatever the creaturewore, took a hundred shapes. Once it stopped on a neighbouring mound andflung all its legs and arms to the winds.

  'My, but that scarecrow 'as got 'em bad!' said Ortheris. 'Seems like if'e comes any furder we'll 'ave to argify with 'im.'

  Learoyd raised himself from the dirt as a bull clears his flanks of thewallow. And as a bull bellows, so he, after a short minute at gaze, gavetongue to the stars.

  'MULVAANEY! MULVAANEY! A-hoo!'

  Oh then it was that we yelled, and the figure dipped into the hollow,till, with a crash of rending grass, the lost one strode up to the lightof the fire and disappeared to the waist in a wave of joyous dogs! ThenLearoyd and Ortheris gave greeting, bass and falsetto together, bothswallowing a lump in the throat.

  'You damned fool!' said they, and severally pounded him with theirfists.

  'Go easy!' he answered; wrapping a huge arm round each. 'I would haveyou to know that I am a god, to be treated as such--tho', by my faith, Ifancy I've got to go to the guard-room just like a privit soldier.'

  The latter part of the sentence destroyed the suspicions raised by theformer. Any one would have been justified in regarding Mulvaney as mad.He was hatless and shoeless, and his shirt and trousers were droppingoff him. But he wore one wondrous garment--a gigantic cloak thatfell from collar-bone to heel--of pale pink silk, wrought all over incunningest needlework of hands long since dead, with the loves of theHindu gods. The monstrous figures leaped in and out of the light of thefire as he settled the folds round him.

  Ortheris handled the stuff respectfully for a moment while I was tryingto remember where I had seen it before. Then he screamed, 'What 'AVE youdone with the palanquin? You're wearin' the linin'.'

  'I am,' said the Irishman, 'an' by the same token the 'broidery isscrapin' my hide off. I've lived in this sumpshus counterpane for fourdays. Me son, I begin to ondherstand why the naygur is no use. Widout meboots, an' me trousies like an openwork stocking on a gyurl's leg ata dance, I begin to feel like a naygur-man--all fearful an' timoreous.Give me a pipe an' I'll tell on.'

  He lit a pipe, resumed his grip of his two friends, and rocked to andfro in a gale of laughter.

  'Mulvaney,' said Ortheris sternly, ''tain't no time for laughin'. You'vegiven Jock an' me more trouble than you're worth. You 'ave been absentwithout leave an' you'll go into cells for that; an' you 'ave come backdisgustin'ly dressed an' most improper in the linin' o' that bloomin'palanquin. Instid of which you laugh. An' WE thought you was dead allthe time.'

  'Bhoys,' said the culprit, still shaking gently, 'whin I've done my taleyou may cry if you like, an' little Orth'ris here can thrample my insideout. Ha' done an' listen. My performances have been stupenjus: my luckhas been the blessed luck av the British Army--an' there's no bettherthan that. I went out dhrunk an' dhrinkin' in the palanquin, and I havecome back a pink god. Did any of you go to Dearsley afther my time wasup? He was at the bottom of ut all.'

  'Ah said so,' murmured Learoyd. 'To-morrow ah'll smash t' face in uponhis heead.'

  'Ye will not. Dearsley's a jool av a man. Afther Ortheris had put meinto the palanquin an' the six bearer-men were gruntin' down the road, Ituk thought to mock Dearsley for that fight. So I tould thim, "Go to theembankmint," and there, bein' most amazin' full, I shtuck my head outav the concern an' passed compliments wid Dearsley. I must ha' miscalledhim outrageous, for whin I am that way the power av the tongue comes onme. I can bare remimber tellin' him that his mouth opened endways likethe mouth av a skate, which was thrue afther Learoyd had handled ut; an'I clear remimber his takin' no manner nor matter av offence, but givin'me a big dhrink of beer. 'Twas the beer did the thrick, for I crawledback into the palanquin, steppin' on me right ear wid me left foot, an'thin I slept like the dead. Wanst I half-roused, an' begad the noisein my head was tremenjus--roarin' and rattlin' an' poundin' such as wasquite new to me. "Mother av Mercy," thinks I, "phwat a concertina I willhave on my shoulders whin I wake!" An' wid that I curls mysilf upto sleep before ut should get hould on me. Bhoys, that noise was notdhrink, 'twas the rattle av a thrain!'

  There followed an impressive pause.

  'Yes, he had put me on a thrain--put me, palanquin an' all, an' sixblack assassins av his own coolies that was in his nefarious confidence,on the flat av a ballast-thruck, and we were rowlin' an' bowlin' alongto Benares. Glory be that I did not wake up thin an' introjuce mysilf tothe coolies. As I was sayin', I slept for the betther part av a day an'a night. But remimber you, that that man Dearsley had packed me off onwan av his material-thrains to Benares, all for to make me overstay myleave an' get me into the cells.'

  The explanation was an eminently rational one. Benares lay at least tenhours by rail from the cantonments, and nothing in the world could havesaved Mulvaney from arrest as a deserter had he appeared there in theapparel of his orgies. Dearsley had not forgotten to take revenge.Learoyd, drawing back a little, began to place soft blows over selectedportions of Mulvaney's body. His thoughts were away on the embankment,and they meditated evil for Dearsley. Mulvaney continued--

  'Whin I was full awake the palanquin was set down in a street, Isuspicioned, for I cud hear people passin' an' talkin'. But I knew wellI was far from home. There is a queer smell upon our cantonments--asmell av dried earth and brick-kilns wid whiffs av cavalrystable-litter. This place smelt marigold flowers an' bad water, an'wanst somethin' alive came an' blew heavy with his muzzle at the chinkav the shutter. "It's in a village I am," thinks I to mysilf, "an' theparochial buffalo is investigatin' the palanquin." But anyways I hadno desire to move. Only lie still whin you're in foreign parts an' thestandin' luck av the British Army will carry ye through. That is anepigram. I made ut.

  'Thin a lot av whishperin' divils surrounded the palanquin. "Take utup," sez wan man. "But who'll pay us?" sez another. "The Maharanee'sminister, av coorse," sez the man. "Oho!" sez I to mysilf, "I'm a quanein me own right, wid a minister to pay me expenses. I'll be an emperorif I lie still long enough; but this is no village I've found." I layquiet, but I gummed me right eye to a crack av the shutters, an' Isaw that the whole street was crammed wid palanquins an' horses, an' asprinklin' av naked priests all yellow powder an' tigers' tails. ButI may tell you, Orth'ris, an' you, Learoyd, that av all the palanquinsours was the most imperial an' magnificent. Now a palanquin means anative lady all the world over, except whin a soldier av the Quanehappens to be takin' a ride. "Women an' priests!" sez I. "Your father'sson is in the right pew this time, Terence. There will be proceedin's."Six black divils in pink muslin tuk up the palanquin, an' oh! but therowlin' an' the rockin' made me sick. Thin we got fair jammed among thepalanquins--not more than fifty av them--an' we grated an' bumpedlike Queenstown potato-smacks in a runnin' tide. I cud hear the womengigglin' and squirkin' in their palanquins, but mine was the royalequipage. They made way for ut, an', begad, the pink muslin men o' minewere howlin', "Room for the Maharanee av Gokral-Seetarun." Do you knowaught av the lady, sorr?'

  'Yes,' said I. 'She is a very estimable old queen of the Central IndianStates, and they say she is fat. How on earth could she go to Benareswithout all the city knowing her palanquin?'

  ''Twas the eternal foolishness av the naygur-man. They saw the palanquinlying loneful an' forlornsome, an' the beauty av ut, after Dearsley'smen had dhropped ut and gone away, an' they gave ut the best name thatoccurred to thim. Quite right too. For aught we know the ould lady wasthravellin' incog--like me. I'm glad to hear she's fat. I was no lightweight mysilf, an' my men were mortial anxious to dhrop
me under a greatbig archway promiscuously ornamented wid the most improper carvin'san' cuttin's I iver saw. Begad! they made me blush--like a--like aMaharanee.'

  'The temple of Prithi-Devi,' I murmured, remembering the monstroushorrors of that sculptured archway at Benares.

  'Pretty Devilskins, savin' your presence, sorr! There was nothin' prettyabout ut, except me. 'Twas all half dhark, an' whin the coolies leftthey shut a big black gate behind av us, an' half a company av fatyellow priests began pully-haulin' the palanquins into a dharker placeyet--a big stone hall full av pillars, an' gods, an' incense, an' allmanner av similar thruck. The gate disconcerted me, for I perceived Iwud have to go forward to get out, my retreat bein' cut off. By the sametoken a good priest makes a bad palanquin-coolie. Begad! they nearlyturned me inside out draggin' the palanquin to the temple. Now thedisposishin av the forces inside was this way. The Maharanee avGokral-Seetarun--that was me--lay by the favour av Providence on the farleft flank behind the dhark av a pillar carved with elephints' heads.The remainder av the palanquins was in a big half circle facing in tothe biggest, fattest, an' most amazin' she-god that iver I dreamed av.Her head ran up into the black above us, an' her feet stuck out in thelight av a little fire av melted butter that a priest was feedin' outav a butter-dish. Thin a man began to sing an' play on somethin' back inthe dhark, an 'twas a queer song. Ut made my hair lift on the back avmy neck. Thin the doors av all the palanquins slid back, an' the womenbundled out. I saw what I'll niver see again. 'Twas more glorious thanthransformations at a pantomime, for they was in pink an' blue an'silver an' red an' grass green, wid di'monds an' im'ralds an' great redrubies all over thim. But that was the least part av the glory. O bhoys,they were more lovely than the like av any loveliness in hiven; ay,their little bare feet were betther than the white hands av a lord'slady, an' their mouths were like puckered roses, an' their eyes werebigger an' dharker than the eyes av any livin' women I've seen. Ye maylaugh, but I'm speakin' truth. I niver saw the like, an' niver I willagain.'

  'Seeing that in all probability you were watching the wives anddaughters of most of the Kings of India, the chances are that youwon't,' I said, for it was dawning on me that Mulvaney had stumbled upona big Queens' Praying at Benares.

  'I niver will,' he said mournfully. 'That sight doesn't come twist toany man. It made me ashamed to watch. A fat priest knocked at my door.I didn't think he'd have the insolince to disturb the Maharanee avGokral-Seetarun, so I lay still. "The old cow's asleep," sez he toanother. "Let her be," sez that. "'Twill be long before she has acalf!" I might ha' known before he spoke that all a woman prays for inInjia--an' for matter o' that in England too--is childher. That made memore sorry I'd come, me bein', as you well know, a childless man.'

  He was silent for a moment, thinking of his little son, dead many yearsago.

  'They prayed, an' the butter-fires blazed up an' the incense turnedeverything blue, an' between that an' the fires the women looked astho' they were all ablaze an' twinklin'. They took hold av the she-god'sknees, they cried out an' they threw themselves about, an' thatworld-without-end-amen music was dhrivin' thim mad. Mother av Hiven! howthey cried, an' the ould she-god grinnin' above thim all so scornful!The dhrink was dyin' out in me fast, an' I was thinkin' harder than thethoughts wud go through my head--thinkin' how to get out, an' all mannerof nonsense as well. The women were rockin' in rows, their di'mond beltsclickin', an' the tears runnin' out betune their hands, an' the lightswere goin' lower an' dharker. Thin there was a blaze like lightnin' fromthe roof, an' that showed me the inside av the palanquin, an' at the endwhere my foot was, stood the livin' spit an' image o' mysilf worked onthe linin'. This man here, ut was.'

  He hunted in the folds of his pink cloak, ran a hand under one, andthrust into the firelight a foot-long embroidered presentment of thegreat god Krishna, playing on a flute. The heavy jowl, the staring eye,and the blue-black moustache of the god made up a far-off resemblance toMulvaney.

  'The blaze was gone in a wink, but the whole schame came to me thin. Ibelieve I was mad too. I slid the off-shutter open an' rowled out intothe dhark behind the elephint-head pillar, tucked up my trousies tomy knees, slipped off my boots an' tuk a general hould av all the pinklinin' av the palanquin. Glory be, ut ripped out like a woman's dhrisswhin you tread on ut at a sergeants' ball, an' a bottle came with ut. Ituk the bottle an' the next minut I was out av the dhark av the pillar,the pink linin' wrapped round me most graceful, the music thunderin'like kettledrums, an' a could draft blowin' round my bare legs. By thishand that did ut, I was Khrishna tootlin' on the flute--the god that therig'mental chaplain talks about. A sweet sight I must ha' looked. I knewmy eyes were big, and my face was wax-white, an' at the worst I mustha' looked like a ghost. But they took me for the livin' god. The musicstopped, and the women were dead dumb an' I crooked my legs like ashepherd on a china basin, an' I did the ghost-waggle with my feet as Ihad done ut at the rig'mental theatre many times, an' I slid acrostthe width av that temple in front av the she-god tootlin' on the beerbottle.'

  'Wot did you toot?' demanded Ortheris the practical.

  'Me? Oh!' Mulvaney sprang up, suiting the action to the word, andsliding gravely in front of us, a dilapidated but imposing deity in thehalf light. 'I sang--

  'Only say You'll be Mrs. Brallaghan. Don't say nay, Charmin' Judy Callaghan.

  I didn't know me own voice when I sang. An' oh! 'twas pitiful to see thewomen. The darlin's were down on their faces. Whin I passed the lastwan I cud see her poor little fingers workin' one in another as if shewanted to touch my feet. So I dhrew the tail av this pink overcoat overher head for the greater honour, an' I slid into the dhark on the otherside av the temple, and fetched up in the arms av a big fat priest. AllI wanted was to get away clear. So I tuk him by his greasy throatan' shut the speech out av him. "Out!" sez I. "Which way, ye fatheathen?"--"Oh!" sez he. "Man," sez I. "White man, soldier man, commonsoldier man. Where in the name av confusion is the back door?" The womenin the temple were still on their faces, an' a young priest was holdin'out his arms above their heads.

  '"This way," sez my fat friend, duckin' behind a big bull-god an' divin'into a passage. Thin I remimbered that I must ha' made the miraculousreputation av that temple for the next fifty years. "Not so fast," Isez, an' I held out both my hands wid a wink. That ould thief smiledlike a father. I tuk him by the back av the neck in case he should bewishful to put a knife into me unbeknownst, an' I ran him up an' downthe passage twice to collect his sensibilities! "Be quiet," sez he, inEnglish. "Now you talk sense," I sez. "Fwhat 'll you give me for theuse av that most iligant palanquin I have no time to take away?"--"Don'ttell," sez he. "Is ut like?" sez I. "But ye might give me my railwayfare. I'm far from my home an' I've done you a service." Bhoys, 'tis agood thing to be a priest. The ould man niver throubled himself to dhrawfrom a bank. As I will prove to you subsequint, he philandered all roundthe slack av his clothes an' began dribblin' ten-rupee notes, old goldmohurs, and rupees into my hand till I could hould no more.'

  'You lie!' said Ortheris. 'You're mad or sunstrook. A native don't givecoin unless you cut it out o' 'im. 'Tain't nature.'

  'Then my lie an' my sunstroke is concealed under that lump av sodyonder,' retorted Mulvaney unruffled, nodding across the scrub. 'An'there's a dale more in nature than your squidgy little legs have ivertaken you to, Orth'ris, me son. Four hundred an' thirty-four rupeesby my reckonin', AN' a big fat gold necklace that I took from him as aremimbrancer, was our share in that business.'

  'An' 'e give it you for love?' said Ortheris.

  'We were alone in that passage. Maybe I was a trifle too pressin',but considher fwhat I had done for the good av the temple and theiverlastin' joy av those women. 'Twas cheap at the price. I wud ha'taken more if I cud ha' found ut. I turned the ould man upside downat the last, but he was milked dhry. Thin he opened a door in anotherpassage an' I found mysilf up to my knees in Benares river-water, an'bad smellin' ut is. More by token I had come out on the river-line closeto the burn
in' ghat and contagious to a cracklin' corpse. This was inthe heart av the night, for I had been four hours in the temple. Therewas a crowd av boats tied up, so I tuk wan an' wint across the river.Thin I came home acrost country, lyin' up by day.'

  'How on earth did you manage?' I said.

  'How did Sir Frederick Roberts get from Cabul to Candahar? He marchedan' he niver tould how near he was to breakin' down. That's why he isfwhat he is. An' now--' Mulvaney yawned portentously. 'Now I will go an'give myself up for absince widout leave. It's eight an' twenty days an'the rough end of the colonel's tongue in orderly room, any way you lookat ut. But 'tis cheap at the price.'

  'Mulvaney,' said I softly. 'If there happens to be any sort of excusethat the colonel can in any way accept, I have a notion that you'll getnothing more than the dressing-gown. The new recruits are in, and--'

  'Not a word more, sorr. Is ut excuses the old man wants? 'Tis not myway, but he shall have thim. I'll tell him I was engaged in financialoperations connected wid a church,' and he flapped his way tocantonments and the cells, singing lustily--

  'So they sent a corp'ril's file, And they put me in the gyard-room For conduck unbecomin' of a soldier.'

  And when he was lost in the midst of the moonlight we could hear therefrain--

  Bang upon the big drum, bash upon the cymbals, As we go marchin' along, boys, oh! For although in this campaign There's no whisky nor champagne, We'll keep our spirits goin' with a song, boys!'

  Therewith he surrendered himself to the joyful and almost weeping guard,and was made much of by his fellows. But to the colonel he said that hehad been smitten with sunstroke and had lain insensible on a villager'scot for untold hours; and between laughter and goodwill the affair wassmoothed over, so that he could, next day, teach the new recruits how to'Fear God, Honour the Queen, Shoot Straight, and Keep Clean.'