is officers were killed at Ypres. They offered
him a commission, but he wouldn't take it. The men love him; though he
has some funny fads, never touches meat, and sings queer outlandish
chants; but he's the splendid sort of fellow who was _born_ for this
war; full of heroic qualities and as hard as a bag of nails. I suppose
his regiment was in Rangoon."

"Not in my time," replied Shafto. He hesitated for a moment, and then
added, "If I were to tell you how I came across that Irish
sergeant-major you'd say I was pulling your leg."

"Oh, go on, then--pull away."

"When I first met him he was a Burmese priest, with a shorn head,
yellow robe, and begging-bowl."

"Come, I say, Douglas, this is a bit too much!"

"But it's a fact. He had been a soldier for six or seven years, got a
bad stroke in the jungle, was taken in by Burmans, and was for seven
years a _pongye_. When the war broke out he flung off his yellow robe,
paid his passage to England, and is here, as you see, in his element."

"It's amazing--incredible--but incredible things come off nowadays."

Shafto nodded.

"If he gets through this, do you suppose he will return to his
monastry?"

"Never! It is his fixed intention to go to Ireland; he has some money,
and hopes to settle down on his own little farm."

"I'm afraid he's some way off that yet; in the meanwhile, he is seeing
a good bit of life."

"And death," mentally added Shafto.

"I say," exclaimed Tremenheere, glancing at his wrist-watch, "it's time
for our dinner--come on!"

* * * * * *

In the autumn of the same year, Shafto, who had again been severely
wounded, was granted a month's leave, and he and Sophy were married.
It was the usual war wedding, no bridesmaids and no reception. Among
the friends, "welcome at the church," were the Gregorys, Tebbs,
Larchers, MacNabs, Mrs. Malone, Mr. Hutton, and the Tremenheeres.
Captain Tremenheere supported his friend as best man.

One specially bidden guest was absent from the gathering. He lay
beneath a black wooden cross, near by to Guinchy, where gallant Irish
regiments had immortalised their colours. Alas! Sergeant-Major
Michael Ryan was among the missing. To the unspeakable grief of his
comrades, he had gone West--but not to Ireland.

***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ROAD TO MANDALAY***

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