hen I'd take
counsel with myself."

"You'd lose," said Hamilton, with a groan. "That's the last person in
the world you should go to for advice, Bones. Suppose," he said, in a
last desperate effort to awaken a gleam of military intelligence in his
subordinate's mind, "suppose you were trekking through the forest with a
hundred rifles, and you found your way barred by a thousand armed men.
What would you do?"

"Go back," said Bones, "and jolly quick, dear old fellow."

"Go back? What would you go back for?" asked the other, in astonishment.

"To make my will," said Bones firmly, "and to write a few letters to
dear old friends in the far homeland. I have friends, Ham," he said,
with dignity, "jolly old people who listen for my footsteps, and to whom
my voice is music, dear old fellow."

"What other illusions do they suffer from?" asked Hamilton offensively,
closing his book with a bang. "Well, you will be sorry to learn that I
shall not recommend you for promotion."

"You don't mean that," said Bones hoarsely.

"I mean that," said Hamilton.

"Well, I thought if I had a pal to examine me, I would go through with
flying colours."

"Then I am not a pal. You don't suggest," said Hamilton, with ominous
dignity, "that I would defraud the public by lying as to the qualities
of a deficient character?"

"Yes, I do," said Bones, nodding vigorously, "for my sake and for the
sake of the child." The child was that small native whom Bones had
rescued and adopted.

"Not even for the sake of the child," said Hamilton, with an air of
finality. "Bones, you're ploughed."

Bones did not speak, and Hamilton gathered together the papers, forms,
and paraphernalia of examination.

He lifted his head suddenly, to discover that Bones was staring at him.
It was no ordinary stare, but something that was a little uncanny. "What
the dickens are you looking at?"

Bones did not speak. His round eyes were fixed on his superior in an
unwinking glare.

"When I said you had failed," said Hamilton kindly, "I meant, of
course----"

"That I'd passed," muttered Bones excitedly. "Say it, Ham--say it!
'Bones, congratulations, dear old lad'----"

"I meant," said Hamilton coldly, "that you have another chance next
month."

The face of Lieutenant Tibbetts twisted into a painful contortion. "It
didn't work!" he said bitterly, and stalked from the room.

"Rum beggar!" thought Hamilton, and smiled to himself.

"Have you noticed anything stra