deed! Bravo! Hsh!') 'Then we will play you afresh'
('Happy to meet you.') 'till there are left no feet upon our ponies.
Thus far for sport.' He dropped one hand on his sword-hilt and his eye
wandered to Dirkovitch lolling back in his chair. 'But if by the will
of God there arises any other game which is not the polo game, then be
assured, Colonel Sahib and officers, that we will play it out side by
side, though _they_,' again his eye sought Dirkovitch, 'though _they_
I say have fifty ponies to our one horse.' And with a deep-mouthed
_Rung ho!_ that sounded like a musket-butt on flagstones he sat down
amid leaping glasses.

Dirkovitch, who had devoted himself steadily to the brandy,--the
terrible brandy aforementioned,--did not understand, nor did the
expurgated translations offered to him at all convey the point.
Decidedly Hira Singh's was the speech of the evening, and the clamour
might have continued to the dawn had it not been broken by the noise
of a shot without that sent every man feeling at his defenceless left
side. Then there was a scuffle and a yell of pain.

'Carbine-stealing again!' said the Adjutant, calmly sinking back in
his chair. 'This comes of reducing the guards. I hope the sentries
have killed him.'

The feet of armed men pounded on the veranda flags, and it was as
though something was being dragged.

'Why don't they put him in the cells till the morning?' said the
Colonel testily. 'See if they've damaged him, Sergeant.'

The mess-sergeant fled out into the darkness and returned with two
troopers and a Corporal, all very much perplexed.

'Caught a man stealin' carbines, Sir,' said the Corporal. 'Leastways
'e was crawlin' towards the barricks, Sir, past the main road
sentries, an' the sentry 'e sez, Sir----'

The limp heap of rags upheld by the three men groaned. Never was seen
so destitute and demoralised an Afghan. He was turbanless, shoeless,
caked with dirt, and all but dead with rough handling. Hira Singh
started slightly at the sound of the man's pain. Dirkovitch took
another glass of brandy.

'_What_ does the sentry say?' said the Colonel.

'Sez 'e speaks English, Sir,' said the Corporal.

'So you brought him into mess instead of handing him over to the
sergeant! If he spoke all the Tongues of the Pentecost you've no
business----'

Again the bundle groaned and muttered. Little Mildred had risen from
his place to inspect. He jumped back as though he had been shot.

'Perhaps it wo