ed him more and more; just,
too, as I was warming up to him a little, and thinking he was improving.

We were silent for a time, and I waited for him to speak, which he did
at last, but in a forced, half-bantering way.

"You'll find it pretty hot, squire," he said; "and sometimes you'll wish
your uniform back at the tailor's. It is terribly hot at times."

"Yes, I've heard so," I said, with my curiosity getting the better of my
annoyance. "Tell me something about the country."

"Eh? About the country? Ah! Of course you, in your young enthusiasm,
are full of romantic fancies."

"Oh, I don't know," I replied haughtily.

"Yes, you are," he said laughing. "All boys going out are. I was. But
don't expect too much, my lad," he continued coldly. "There are grand
and lovely bits of scenery, and times when the place looks too beautiful
for earth; but, to balance this, deserts and storms, terrible rains, and
dust borne on winds that seem as if they had come from the mouth of a
furnace. There are times, too, when the state of the atmosphere affects
your nerves, and life seems to be unendurable."

"It doesn't sound very cheerful," I said bitterly.

"No; and I am acting like a wet blanket to you," he said, with a sad
smile. "But you will do your duty, and make friends, and it is not such
a bad life after all."

There was another silence, and I waited in vain for him to speak.

"What regiment are you in, sir?" I said at last, as he stood with his
back to me, as if wrapped in thought.

"I?" he said, starting, and looking round. "Oh, I am in the artillery--
the horse artillery. I thought you would know."

I shook my head.

"We may run against each other sometimes out yonder; but it is a great
country, and you may be stationed hundreds of miles away."

"I hope so," I thought.

"Rather a rough time to come for you, my lad," he said, with what I took
to be a cynical smile; "but you will soon get used to the noise of the
guns."

"Of course," I said coldly. "Tell me more about the country. There are
plenty of tigers, I suppose?"

"Oh yes, but far more mosquitoes."

"Well, I know that," I said.

"You have never seen one, I suppose?"

"No."

"Then don't make the same mistake as the Irish private's wife at
Madras."

"What was that?" I said.

"It is an old story that you may not have heard. She was on shipboard,
and eagerly listening to an old sergeant's wife who had been there
before; and this w