giving him enough rope, and I hope he'll hang, though I'm afraid
he won't. The rising will probably be a sort of Chinese cracker
affair--a fizz, a few bangs, and a splutter-out. No honour and glory for
any one!"

"I hope you are right," said Bernard.

"And I hope I'm wrong," said Tommy lightly. "I like a run for my money."

"You forget the women," said Bernard abruptly.

Tommy opened his eyes. "No, I don't. They'll be all right. They'll have
to clear out to Bhulwana a little earlier than usual. They'll be safe
enough there. You can go and look after 'em, sir. They'll like that."

"Thank you, Tommy." Bernard smiled in spite of himself. "It's kind of
you to put it so tactfully. Now tell me what you think of Everard. Is he
really ill?"

"No; worried to death, that's all. He's talking of sending in his
papers. Did you know?"

"I suspected he would," Bernard spoke thoughtfully.

"He mustn't do it!" said Tommy with vehemence. "He's worth all the rest
of the Mess put together. You mustn't let him."

Bernard lifted his brows. "I let him!" he said. "Do you think he is
going to do what I tell him?"

"I know you have influence--considerable influence--with him," Tommy
said. "You ought to use it, sir. You really ought. It's up to you and no
one else."

He spoke insistently. Bernard looked at him attentively.

"You've changed your tune somewhat, haven't you, Tommy?" he said.

"Yes," said Tommy bluntly. "I have. I've been a damn' fool if you want
to know--the biggest, damnedest fool on the face of creation. And I've
been and told him so."

"For no particular reason?" Bernard's blue eyes grew keener in their
regard. He looked at Tommy with more interest than he had ever before
bestowed upon him.

Tommy's face was red, but he replied without embarrassment. "Certainly.
I've come to my senses, that's all. I've come to realize--what I really
knew all along--that he's a white man, white all through, however black
he chooses to be painted. And I'm ashamed that I ever doubted him."

"He hasn't told you anything?" questioned Bernard, still closely
surveying the flushed countenance.

"No!" said Tommy, and his voice rang on a note of indignant pride. "Why
the devil should he tell me anything? I'm his friend. Thank the gods, I
can trust him without."

Bernard held out his hand suddenly. The interest had turned to something
warmer. He looked at the boy with genuine admiration. "I take off my hat
to you, Tommy," he said. "E