-one of the least known and appreciated of any of our little
affairs. The Pegu Club seemed to be full of men on their way up or down,
and the conversation was but an echo of the murmur of conquest far away
to the north.

"See that man over there. He was cut over the head the other day at
Zoungloung-goo. Awfully tough man. That chap next him has been on the
dacoit-hunt for about a year. He broke up Boh Mango's gang: caught the
Boh in a paddy field, y'know. The other man's going home on sick
leave--got a lump of iron somewhere in his system. Try our mutton; I
assure you the Club is the only place in Rangoon where you get mutton.
Look here, you must _not_ speak vernacular to our boys. Hi, boy! get
master some more ice. They're all Bombay men or Madrassis. Up at the
front there are some Burman servants: but a real Burman will never work.
He prefers being a simple little _daku_."

"How much?"

"Dear little dacoit. We call 'em _dakus_ for short--sort o' pet name.
That's the butter-fish. I forgot you didn't get much fish up-country.
Yes, I s'pose Rangoon has its advantages. You pay like a Prince. Take
an ordinary married establishment. Little furnished house--one hundred
and fifty rupees. Servants' wages two twenty or two fifty. That's four
hundred at once. My dear fellow, a sweeper won't take less than twelve
or sixteen rupees a month here, and even then he'll work for other
houses. It's worse than Quetta. Any man who comes to Lower Burma in the
hope of living on his pay is a fool."

_Voice from lower end of table._ "Dee fool. It's different in Upper
Burma, where you get command and travelling allowances."

_Another voice in the middle of a conversation._ "They never got that
story into the papers, but I can tell you we weren't quite as quick in
rushing the fort as they made believe. You see Boh Gwee had us in a
regular trap, and by the time we had closed the line our men were being
peppered front and rear: that jungle-fighting is the deuce and all. More
ice please."

Then they told me of the death of an old school-fellow under the ramp of
the Minhla redoubt--does any one remember the affair at Minhla that
opened the third Burmese ball?

"I was close to him," said a voice. "He died in A.'s arms, I fancy, but
I'm not quite sure. Anyhow, I know he died easily. He was a good
fellow."

"Thank you," said I, "and now I think I'll go;" and I went out into the
steamy night, my head ringing with stories of battle, murder, an