lephant only gave that trunk of his a gentle swing against
Chunder's side, and he was a couple of yards off, rolling over and over
in the hay scattered about.

Up he jumps, wild as wild; and the first thing he catches sight of is
Harry laughing fit to crack his sides, when Chunder rushes at him like a
mad bull.

I suppose he expected to see Harry turn tail and run; but that being one
of those things not included in drill, and a British soldier having a
good deal of the machine about him, Harry stands fast, and Chunder pulls
up short, grinning rolling his eyes, and twisting his hands about, just
for all the world like as if he was robbing a hen-roost, and wringing
all the chickens' necks.

"Didn't hurt much, did it, blacky?" says Harry coolly. But the mahout
couldn't speak for rage; and he kept spitting on the ground, and making
signs, till really his face was anything but pretty to look at. And
there he kept on, till, from laughing, Harry turned a bit nasty, for
there was some one looking out of a window; and from being half-amused
at what was going on, I once more felt all cold and bitter. But Harry
fires up now, and makes towards Mr Chunder, who begins to retreat; and
says Harry: "Now I tell you what it is, young man; I never did you any
ill turn; and if I choose to have a bit of fun with the elephant, it's
government property, and as much mine as yours. But look ye here--if
you come cussing, and spitting, and swearing at me again in your nasty
heathen dialect, why, if I don't--No," he says, stopping short, and
half-turning to me, "I can't black his eyes, Isaac, for they're black
enough already; but let him come any more of it, and, jiggermaree, if I
don't bung 'em!"

STORY ONE, CHAPTER EIGHT.

Chunder didn't like the looks of Harry, I suppose, so he walked off,
turning once to spit and curse, like that turncoat chap, Shimei, that
you read of in the Bible; and we two walked off together towards our
quarters.

"I ain't going to stand any of his nonsense," says Harry.

"It's bad making enemies now, Harry," I said gruffly. And just then up
comes Measles, who had been relieved, for his spell was up now; and
another party were on, else he would have had to be in the guard-room.

"There never was such an unlucky beggar as me," says Measles. "If a
chance does turn up for earning a bit promotion, it's always some one
else gets it. Come on, lads, and let's see what Mother Bantem's got in
the pot."

"You'