Rudyard Kipling ») praised and cockered up too much? You know these people here have no sense of proportion. They’ll call him a second Detaille and a third-hand Meissonier while his fashion lasts. It’s windy diet for a colt.” “I don’t think it affects Dick much. You might as well call a young wolf a lion and expect him to take the compliment in exchange for a shin-bone. Dick’s soul is in the bank. He’s working for cash.” “Now he has thrown up war work, I suppose he doesn’t see that the obligations of the service are just the same, only the proprietors are changed.” “How should he know? He thinks he is his own master.” “Does he? I could undeceive him for his good, if there’s any virtue in print. He wants the whiplash.” “Lay it on with science, then. I’d flay him myself, but I like him too much.” “I’ve no scruples. He had the audacity to try to cut me out with a woman at Cairo once. I forgot that, but I remember now.” “Did he cut you out?” “You Il see when I have dealt with him. But, after all, what’s the good? Leave him alone and he'll come home, if he has any stuff in him, dragging or wagging his tail behind him. There’s more in a week of life than in a lively weekly. None the less I'll slate him. I'll slate him ponderously in the Cataclysm.” “Good luck to you; but I fancy nothing short of a crowbar would make Dick wince. His soul seems to have been fired before we came across him. He’s intensely suspicious and utterly lawless.” “Matter of temper,” said the Nilghai. “It’s the same with horses. Some you wallop and they work, some you wallop and they jib, and some you wallop and they go out for a walk with their hands in their pockets.” “That’s exactly what Dick has done,” said Torpen