knack of handling African troops,
and without that knack an officer might just as well transfer
elsewhere. Firmness, strict impartiality, and consideration for the
welfare of the men under his orders had been rewarded by a
whole-hearted devotion on the part of the blacks to "Massa Wilmst,"
while every man had the satisfaction that he was known by name to the
junior subaltern.

The company officer had not yet put in an appearance, but the platoon
commanders and their subordinates were engaged either in discussing
impending plans or else minutely examining their men's equipment, lest
the eagle eye of the C.O. should detect some deficiency during the
forthcoming inspection.

"All correct, sergeant?" enquired Wilmshurst, addressing a tall Haussa,
Bela Moshi by name.

The sergeant saluted smartly, replying, with a broad smile, that
everything was in order. A child by nature, Bela Moshi had developed
into a smart and efficient soldier without losing the simple
characteristics of the African native. He was a first-class marksman,
although it had required long and patient training to get him to
understand the use of sights and verniers and to eradicate the belief,
everywhere prevalent amongst savage races, that to raise the backsight
to its highest elevation results in harder hitting by the bullet.

Bela Moshi was smart with the machine-gun, too, while for scouting and
tracking work there were few who equalled him. The regiment was father
and mother to the ebon warrior, while of all the officers Wilmshurst
was his special favourite.

The subaltern realised it but could give no reason for Bela Moshi's
preferential treatment; not that Wilmshurst had gone out of his way to
favour the man. He treated the rank and file of his platoon with
impartial fairness, ever ready to hear complaints, but woe betide the
black who tried to "get to windward" of the young officer.

Upon the approach of the C.O. the ranks stiffened. The display of
ivory vanished, and with thick, pouting lips, firmly closed, and eyes
fixed rigidly in front the men awaited the minute inspection.

Colonel Quarrier was a man who had grown grey in the service of the
Crown. For over thirty years he had held a commission in the Nth West
Africa Regiment, rising from a fresh young Second Lieutenant to the
rank of Colonel Commandant and ruler of the destinies of nearly a
thousand men. "Case hardened" to the attacks of mosquitos, his system
overcharged with m