d-parties went to work, as per Political survey."

"Had some rippin' sing-songs in camp, too," said Tertius.

"My pup"--thus did Dick Four refer to his subaltern--"was a pious
little beast. He didn't like the sing-songs, and so he went down with
pneumonia. I rootled round the camp, and found Tertius gassing about as
a D.A.Q.M.G., which, God knows, he isn't cut out for. There were six
or eight of the old Coll. at base-camp (we're always in force for a
frontier row), but I'd heard of Tertius as a steady old hack, and I told
him he had to shake off his D.A.Q.M.G. breeches and help _me_. Tertius
volunteered like a shot, and we settled it with the authorities, and out
we went--forty Pathans, Tertius, and me, looking up the road-parties.
Macnamara's--'member old Mac, the Sapper, who played the fiddle so
damnably at Umballa?--Mac's party was the last but one. The last was
Stalky's. He was at the head of the road with some of his pet Sikhs. Mac
said he believed he was all right."

"Stalky _is_ a Sikh," said Tertius. "He takes his men to pray at the
Durbar Sahib at Amritzar, regularly as clockwork, when he can."

"Don't interrupt, Tertius. It was about forty miles beyond Mac's before
I found him; and my men pointed out gently, but firmly, that the country
was risin'. What kind o' country, Beetle? Well, _I_'m no word-painter,
thank goodness, but _you_ might call it a hellish country! When we
weren't up to our necks in snow, we were rolling down the khud. The
well-disposed inhabitants, who were to supply labor for the road-making
(don't forget that, Pussy dear), sat behind rocks and took pot-shots
at us. 'Old, old story! We all legged it in search of Stalky. I had a
feeling that he'd be in good cover, and about dusk we found him and his
road-party, as snug as a bug in a rug, in an old Malo't stone fort, with
a watch-tower at one corner. It overhung the road they had blasted
out of the cliff fifty feet below; and under the road things went down
pretty sheer, for five or six hundred feet, into a gorge about half a
mile wide and two or three miles long. There were chaps on the other
side of the gorge scientifically gettin' our range. So I hammered on
the gate and nipped in, and tripped over Stalky in a greasy, bloody old
poshteen, squatting on the ground, eating with his men. I'd only seen
him for half a minute about three months before, but I might have met
him yesterday. He waved his hand all sereno.

"'Hullo, Aladdin! Hullo, E