eched, lumbering
things to send to poultry shows. Some one told me that Indian com was a
fine thing for them--made their plumage bright and gave them bone; so I
ordered a lot."

"And did it answer the purpose?"

"Answer the purpose?" cried Dickenson indignantly. "Why, the beggars
picked it up grain by grain and put it down again. Pampered Sybarites!
Then the cock cocked his eye up at me and said, `_Tuck, tuck, tuck!
Caro, waro, ware_!' which being interpreted from the Chick-chuck
language which is alone spoken by the gallinaceous tribe, means, `None
of your larks: yellow pebbles for food? Not to-day, thankye!'"

"I say, Bob, what a boy you do keep!" said Lennox.

"The sweet youthfulness of my nature, lad. But, as I was telling you,
the beggars wouldn't touch it, and I had to get our cook to boil it
soft. Our mealie pap has just the same smell. That makes me think of
being a real boy with my poultry pen: the Brahmas make me think of the
young cockerels who did not feather well for show and were condemned to
go to pot--that is to say, to the kitchen; and _that_ brings up their
legs and wings peppered and salted before broiling for breakfast,
finished off with a sprinkle of Worcester sauce, and then--oh, luscious!
oh, tender juiciness! Oh! hold me up, old man, or I shall faint.
There, sniff! Can't you smell? Yes, of course; mealie pap in a tin,
and--Oh, here's the colonel eating his. Roby will have to give his
report now."

"Good--morning, gentlemen," said the colonel. "Just in time for
breakfast. Well, what have you found?"

He had hardly asked the question before Captain Roby hurried in, to go
up to his side at once and make his report.

"I'm sorry; but no more than I expected.--Here," he said, turning to his
servant, after making a brave show of eating the meagre tin of Indian
corn porridge; "bring me a little cocoa."

"Beg pardon, sir," said the man, bending over him from behind; "very
sorry, but last of the cocoa was finished yesterday."

"Humph! Yes; I had forgotten," said the colonel, and he took up his
spoon and began to play with the porridge remaining in his tin.

The breakfast was soon ended, and the officers made a show of chatting
cheerfully together, while the colonel sat tapping the edge of his tin
softly with his canteen spoon, looking thoughtfully into the bottom of
the cleaned-out vessel the while. Then every eye was turned to him as
he straightened himself up, for they judged t