now you was
the gentleman dropped him there? Who'd have--"

By this time Charlie had seized me and taken me to the light. In an
instant he stripped me of my coat, and there, with bounding heart, read
his own initials, scratched years ago with his own boyish hand, in the
dormitory of Randlebury.

"It _is_ it!" he shouted; "my old watch! Who would have thought it
possible!"

Then turning to the trembling Paddy, he said, in a voice almost unsteady
in its eagerness,--

"My man, what will you sell me this watch for?"

Paddy looked more astonished than ever.

"Sure it's your honour's own."

"It was once, but it's yours now. But I'll give you a ten-pound note
for him and a gold watch besides if you'll let me have him back."

Imagine Paddy's astonishment.

"Sure Duck Downie says it's not worth thirty shillings--"

"Who cares for Duck Downie?" shouted Charlie, pulling out his purse.
"Here's the money, and if you come to Lieutenant Newcome's tent when you
are off duty you shall have the watch."

And so saying, and not waiting for another word, he darted off, with me
still in his hands, leaving Paddy fairly stupefied with amazement, and
with only presence of mind enough left to pick up his rifle and make a
royal salute to the retreating form of my first and last and dearest
master.

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.

HOW I SAVED MY MASTER'S LIFE, AND RETIRED FROM ACTIVE SERVICE.

I may with truth say, I reached that night the happiest moment in my
life.

Indeed, as the young officer walked on, with me held tight in his hand,
it would be hard to say which of us two was the happier.

Charlie's soldier life had not turned out as happily as, long ago, he
had pictured it to himself. Away from home, and with comparatively few
friends, he had felt himself losing somewhat of his freshness and boyish
enthusiasm, and settling down rather to habits of a humdrum commonplace
official. Books he had very few, and congenial society still less.
Quartered as he had been during the first two years in dull country
stations, he had grown weary of the routine of everyday life, and longed
for the sight of fresh faces, fresh scenes, fresh occupation.

After a while this desire was gratified in his removal to Calcutta. But
if he had suffered from dulness and weariness before, he was now in
danger of going to another extreme. In his first joy at getting back
into lively society he rushed with ardour into all the attractions and
gaiet