h he followed his friend out.

Then he took Hawbury over to his own quarters, and Hawbury made
himself very much at home in a rocking-chair, which the Baron regarded
as the pride and joy and glory of his room.

"By Jove!" cried Hawbury. "This is deuced odd, do you know, old chap;
and I can't imagine how the mischief you got here!"

This led to long explanations, and a long conversation, which was
protracted far into the night, to the immense enjoyment of both of the
friends.

The Baron was, as Lord Hawbury had said, an old friend. He had become
acquainted with him many years before upon the prairies of America,
near the Rocky Mountains. The Baron had rescued him from Indians, by
whom he had been entrapped, and the two friends had wandered far over
those regions, enduring perils, fighting enemies, and roughing it in
general. This rough life had made each one's better nature visible to
the other, and had led to the formation of a friendship full of mutual
appreciation of the other's best qualities. Now it is just possible
that if they had not known one another, Hawbury might have thought the
Baron a boor, and the Baron might have called Hawbury a "thundering
snob;" but as it was, the possible boor and the possible snob each
thought the other one of the finest fellows in the world.

"But you're not a Roman Catholic," said Hawbury, as the Baron
explained his position among the Zouaves.

"What's the odds? All's fish that comes to their net. To get an office
in the Church may require a profession of faith, but we're not so
particular in the army. I take the oath, and they let me go. Besides,
I have Roman Catholic leanings."

"Roman Catholic leanings?"

"Yes; I like the Pope. He's a fine man, Sir--a fine man. I regard that
man more like a father than any thing else. There isn't one of us but
would lay down our lives for that old gentleman."

"But you never go to confession, and you're not a member of the
Church."

"No; but then I'm a member of the army, and I have long chats with
some of the English-speaking priests. There are some first-rate
fellows among them, too. Yes, Sir."

"I don't see much of a leaning in all that."

"Leaning? Why, it's all leaning. Why, look here. I remember the time
when I was a grim, true-blue Puritan. Well, I ain't that now. I used
to think the Pope was the Beast of the 'Pocalypse. Well, now I think
he's the finest old gentleman I ever saw. I didn't use to go to
Catholic chapel. Well