e of it all was Nandy. Nandy had found a nice out-of-the-way
corner of the foreshore, with a patch of mud above the water's edge, and,
after a good roll in it (it was a trifle smellier than the baths at
Hi-jeen Villa, but nothing amiss), had waded out into the tide for a
thorough wash. He was standing in water up to his armpits and rinsing the
mud out of his hair, when, happening to glance shorewards, he caught a
glimpse of scarlet, and rubbed his eyes to see a red-coated soldier
standing on the beach and overhauling his clothes, which he had left there
in a heap.

"Hi!" sang out Nandy. "You leave those clothes alone: they're mine!"

The soldier put up a hand and seemed to be beckoning, cautious-like.

Nandy waded nearer. "Looky-here, lobster--none of your tricks!" he said.
"They-there clothes belong to me."

"I ain't goin' to be a lobster, as you put it, much longer," said the
soldier. "I'm a-goin' to cast my shell." And with that he begins to
unbutton his tunic. "If you try to interfere, young man, I'll wring your
neck; and if you cry out, I carry a pistol upon me--" and sure enough he
pulled a pistol from his pocket and laid it on the stones between his
feet. "I'm a desperate man," he said.

"Hullo!" said Nandy, beginning to understand. "Desertin', eh?"

The soldier nodded as he flung the tunic down on the beach--and Nandy took
note of the figures 32 in brass on the collar. "It's all along of a
woman," said he.

"Ah!" said Nandy, sympathetic. "There's lots of us in the world taken
that way."

"Looky-here," said the soldier, "if you try any sauce with me, you'll be
sorry for it; and, what's more, you won't get this pretty suit o' scarlet
clothes I was minded to leave you for a present."

"Thank you," said Nandy.

"They won't fit so badly if you turn up the bottoms o' the pantaloons: and
you can't look worse than you do in a state o' nature."

"All right," said Nandy; "only make haste about it; for 'tis cold standin'
here in the water."

To tell the truth a rare notion had crept into his head. This scarlet
uniform--for scarlet it was, with white and yellow facings--had come as a
godsend. He would walk home in it, and if it didn't frighten twenty
shillings out of Aunt Barbree he must have lost the knack of lying.

"You can't be in more of a hurry than I am," answered the soldier,
stripping to the very buff--for everything he wore, down to his shirt,
carried the regimental mark. The only part