called out with great ceremony,
and dropping his brogue entirely: "Gentlemen, I give you the Queen, God
bless her!" He raised the flask to his lips and took a long pull and
passed it to me. After we had duly honored the toast, Ould Michael once
more struck an impressive attitude and called out: "Gentlemen, Her
Majesty's loyal forces----" when McFarquhar reached for him and, taking
the flask out of his hand, said, gravely:

"It is a very good toast, but we will postpone the rest till a more
suitable occasion."

Ould Michael, however, was resolute.

"It would ill become a British soldier to permit this toast to go
unhonored."

"Will you come after this one is drunk?" asked McFarquhar.

"I will that."

"Very well," said McFarquhar, "I drink to the very good health of Her
Majesty's army," and, taking a short pull, he put the flask into his
pocket.

Ould Michael gazed at him in amazed surprise and, after the full meaning
of the joke had dawned upon him, burst out into laughter.

"Bedad, McFarquhar, it's the first joke ye iver made, but the less
fraquent they are the better I loike them." So saying, he mounted his
pony and, once more saluting me and then the flag, made off with his
friend. Every now and then, however, I could see him sway in his saddle
under the gusts of laughter at the excellence of McFarquhar's joke.

That was the last I saw of Ould Michael for more than six months, but
often through that winter, as I worked my way to the Coast, I wondered
what the monthly mails were doing for the old man and whether to him and
to his friends of those secluded valleys any better relief from the
monotony of life had come than that offered by Paddy Dougan's back room.

In early May I found myself once more with my canvas and photographic
apparatus approaching Grand Bend, but this time from the West. As I
reached the curve in the river where the trail leads to the first view
of the town I eagerly searched for Ould Michael's flag. There stood the
mast, sure enough, but there was no flag in sight. What had happened to
Ould Michael? While he lived his flag would fly. Had he left Grand Bend,
or had Paddy Dougan's stuff been too much for him? I was rather
surprised to find in my heart a keen anxiety for the old soldier. As I
hurried on I saw that Grand Bend had heard the sound of approaching
civilization and was waking up. Two or three saloons, a blacksmith's
shop, some tents and a new general store proclaimed a boom.