own regular army should
watch the camp, that our slumbers might not be disturbed, and when
challenged by the sentries, they would reply, "chokidar" (watchman).
This all seemed very satisfactory, but we entrenched ourselves as usual,
not, as we explained, because we doubted our protector's powers or
inclinations, buy merely as a matter of form.

At midnight precisely, the camp was awakened by a dozen shots in rapid
succession. The khan's pickets could be heard expostulating with the
enemy, who replied by jeers and bitter remarks.

The firing continued for an hour, when the "snipers," having satisfied
their honour, relieved their feelings and expended their cartridges,
went away rejoicing. The troops throughout remained silent, and
vouchsafed no reply.

It may seem difficult to believe that fifty bullets could fall in a
camp, only 100 yards square--crowded with animals and men--without any
other result than to hit a single mule in the tail. Such was, however,
the fact. This shows of what value, a little active service is to the
soldier. The first time he is under fire, he imagines himself to be in
great danger. He thinks that every bullet is going to hit him, and that
every shot is aimed at him. Assuredly he will be killed in a moment. If
he goes through this ordeal once or twice, he begins to get some idea of
the odds in his favour. He has heard lots of bullets and they have not
hurt him. He will get home safely to his tea this evening, just as
he did the last time. He becomes a very much more effective fighting
machine.

From a military point of view, the perpetual frontier wars in one corner
or other of the Empire are of the greatest value. This fact may one day
be proved, should our soldiers ever be brought into contact with some
peace-trained, conscript army, in anything like equal numbers.

Though the firing produced very little effect on the troops--most of
whom had been through the experience several times before--it was
a severe trial to the wounded, whose nerves, shattered by pain and
weakness, were unable to bear the strain. The surgeon in charge--Major
Tyrell--told me that the poor fellows quivered at every shot as if in
anticipation of a blow. A bullet in the leg will made a brave man a
coward. A blow on the head will make a wise man a fool. Indeed I have
read that a sufficiency of absinthe can make a good man a knave. The
triumph of mind over matter does not seem to be quite complete as yet.

I saw a