Rudyard Kipling 247 for a while. I’ve had a turn of it myself. It’s as bad as being blind.” “So I find it. When does this armored train go?” “At six o’clock. It takes an hour to cover the seven miles.” “Are the Fuzzies on the rampage — eh?” “About three nights a week. Fact is I’m in acting command of the night-train. It generally runs back empty to Tanai for the night.” “Big camp at Tanai, I suppose?” “Pretty big. It has to feed our desert-column somehow.” “Is that far off?” “Between thirty and forty miles — in an infernal thirsty country.” “Is the country quiet between Tanai and our men?” “More or less. I shouldn’t care to cross it alone, or with a subaltern’s command for the matter of that, but the scouts get through it in some extraordinary fashion.” “They always did.” “Have you been here before, then?” “IT was through most of the trouble when it first broke out.” “In the service and cashiered,” was the subaltern’s first thought, so he refrained from putting any questions. “There’s you man coming up with the mules. It seems rather queer —” “That I should be mule-leading?” said Dick. “I didn’t mean to say so, but it is. Forgive me — it’s beastly impertinence I know, but you speak like a man who has been at a public school. There’s no mistaking the tone.” “Iam a public school man.” “I thought so. I say, I don’t want to hurt your