n
in khaki. Four of them had caps without tunics. Only one had the full
regulation uniform; but he was wearing odd boots. The bandmaster, in a
braided frock-coat, which reached well below his knees, was
spasmodically putting in bits on a cornet; he was short of stature
with a constricted wind, and the pace was fast.

The second band approached, the man at its head bearing a carrot with
a similar legend as that of the rival concern; but in relation to
carrots. "Onward, Christian Soldiers" was its melody. The noise became
diabolical. The second band had uniform caps only, and two of its
members had taken off their coats and hung them over their shoulders.
It was a hot and tiring day.

At the moment when the second band was within a hundred yards of the
shop, the camel raised its head and gave vent to its terrifying roar,
a rather indifferent attempt to imitate that of a lion.

The "Onward, Christian Soldiers" band was the first to reach the
shop, having a shorter distance to traverse. Its leader was a tall man
with a weary face, and a still more weary moustache. His waistcoat was
unbuttoned, and his face dripping with perspiration as he blew out
what brains he possessed upon a silver cornet. He marched straight up
to the door of the shop, blowing vigorously. Suddenly a double beat of
the drum gave the signal to stop. Taking off his cap, with the back of
his hand he wiped the sweat from his brow. Pushing past Mr. Hearty he
entered, a moment after followed by his eleven confreres.

For a moment Mr. Hearty stared, then he retreated backwards before the
avalanche of musicians.

"What do you want?" he demanded feebly.

"This the way upstairs, guv'nor?" enquired the tall man.

"Upstairs?" interrogated Mr. Hearty.

"Yus, upstairs, like me to say it again?" queried the man who was
tired and short-tempered.

"But, what----?" began Mr. Hearty.

"Oh, go an' roast yourself!" responded the man. "Come along, boys,"
and they tramped through the back-parlour. Mr. Hearty heard them
pounding up the stairs.

The drum, however, refused to go through the narrow door. The drummer
tried it at every conceivable angle. At last he recognised that he had
met his Waterloo.

"Hi, Charlie!" he yelled.

"'Ullo! That you, Ted?" came the reply from above.

"Ruddy drum's stuck," yelled the drummer, equally hot and exasperated.

"Woooot?" bawled Charlie.

"Ruddy drum won't go up," cried Ted.

"All right, you stay down there, you can