ing to let the thing
down so easily. His sprained ankle kept him tied by the leg for some
days, but on the subject of the fight and the retreat he became somewhat
of a bore. On the subject of John Ames he became even more of one. He
was never tired of extolling that worthy's readiness and nerve, and his
self-devotion in risking his life to save a comrade.

"You British have got a little iron notion," he would say, "a thing you
call a Victoria Cross, I reckon. Well, when you going to get it for
John Ames? He boosted me on to his broncho like a sack right away, and
run afoot himself. But for him where'd I be now? Cut into bully beef
by those treacherous savages. Yes, sir."

But as these incisive utterances were invariably accompanied by an
invitation to liquor, there were some who were not above drawing. The
Major upon his favourite topic. To most, however, he became a bore, but
to none so much as the subject thereof. Said the latter one day--

"Do you know, Major, I begin to wish I had left you where you were.
It's a fact that you're making a perfect fool of me, and I wish you'd
drop it."

"Shucks! Now you quit that fool-talk, John Ames, and reach down that
whisky over there--if you can call such drug-store mixture as your
Scotch stuff by the same name as real old Kentucky. I'm going on at it
until they give you that little nickel thing you British think such a
heap of."

"But I don't want it, can't you understand?" he retorted angrily; "nor
anything else either. I believe I'll get out of this country mighty
soon. I'm sick of the whole show."

Shackleton looked at his friend, and shook his head gravely. John Ames
petulant, meant something very wrong indeed with John Ames. Then an
idea struck "The Major"--a bright idea, he reckoned--and in the result
he seized an early opportunity of making a call, and during that call he
retold his favourite tale to just two persons--to one of whom it was
pleasant and to one of whom it was not. You see, he was a shrewd
observer, was Shackleton, otherwise "The Major."

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.

THE KING AND THE AGE.

"Do try and be serious a little while if you can, Nidia, if only that I
have something very serious to say to you."

"Drive ahead, then, Govvie. I promise not even to laugh."

Susie Bateman looked at the girl as she sat there, with hands clasped
together and downcast eyes, striving to look the very picture of
be-lectured demureness, and tried