ons' creed. 'A
dhirty man,' he was used to say, in the speech of his kind, 'goes to
Clink for a weakness in the knees, an' is coort-martialled for a pair
av socks missin'; but a clane man, such as is an ornament to his
service--a man whose buttons are gold, whose coat is wax upon him, an'
whose 'coutrements are widout a speck--_that_ man may, spakin' in
reason, do fwhat he likes an' dhrink from day to divil. That's the
pride av bein' dacint.'

We sat together, upon a day, in the shade of a ravine far from the
barracks, where a watercourse used to run in rainy weather. Behind us
was the scrub jungle, in which jackals, peacocks, the gray wolves of
the North-Western Provinces, and occasionally a tiger estrayed from
Central India, were supposed to dwell. In front lay the cantonment,
glaring white under a glaring sun; and on either side ran the broad
road that led to Delhi.

It was the scrub that suggested to my mind the wisdom of Mulvaney
taking a day's leave and going upon a shooting-tour. The peacock is a
holy bird throughout India, and he who slays one is in danger of being
mobbed by the nearest villagers; but on the last occasion that
Mulvaney had gone forth, he had contrived, without in the least
offending local religious susceptibilities, to return with six
beautiful peacock skins which he sold to profit. It seemed just
possible then----

'But fwhat manner av use is ut to me goin' out widout a dhrink? The
ground's powdher-dhry underfoot, an' ut gets unto the throat fit to
kill,' wailed Mulvaney, looking at me reproachfully. 'An' a peacock is
not a bird you can catch the tail av onless ye run. Can a man run on
wather--an' jungle-wather too?'

Ortheris had considered the question in all its bearings. He spoke,
chewing his pipe-stem meditatively the while:--

'Go forth, return in glory,
To Clusium's royal 'ome:
An' round these bloomin' temples 'ang
The bloomin' shields o' Rome.

You better go. You ain't like to shoot yourself--not while there's a
chanst of liquor. Me an' Learoyd'll stay at 'ome an' keep shop--'case
o' anythin' turnin' up. But you go out with a gas-pipe gun an' ketch
the little peacockses or somethin'. You kin get one day's leave easy
as winkin'. Go along an' get it, an' get peacockses or somethin'.'

'Jock,' said Mulvaney, turning to Learoyd, who was half asleep under
the shadow of the bank. He roused slowly.

'Sitha, Mulvaney, go,' said he.

And Mulvaney went; cursing his a