le without one falling out; and then
the halt was called; men wheeled into line; we were dismissed; and soon
after we were lounging about, under such shade as we could manage to get
in the thin tope of trees.

STORY ONE, CHAPTER TWO.

That's a pretty busy time, that first half-hour after a halt: what with
the niggers setting up a few tents, and getting a fire lighted, and
fetching water; but in spite of our being tired, we soon had things
right. There was the colonel's tent, Colonel Maine's--a little stout
man, that we all used to laugh at, because he was such a little, round,
good-tempered chap, who never troubled about anything, for we hadn't
learned then what was lying asleep in his brave little body, waiting to
be brought out. Then there was the mess tent for the officers, and the
hospital tent for those on the sick-list, beside our bell tents, that we
shouldn't have set up at all, only to act as sun-shades. But, of
course, the principal tent was the colonel's.

Well, there they were, the colonel and his lady, Mrs Maine--a nice,
kindly-spoken, youngish woman: twenty years younger than he, she was;
but, for all that, a happier couple never breathed; and they two used to
seem as if the regiment, and India, and all the natives were made on
purpose to fall down and worship the two little golden idols they'd set
up--a little girl and a little boy, you know. Cock Robin and Jenny
Wren, we chaps used to call them, though Jenny Wren was about a year and
a half the oldest. And I believe it was from living in France a bit,
that the colonel's wife had got the notion of dressing them so; but it
would have done your heart good to see those two children--the boy with
his little red tunic and his sword, and the girl with her red jacket and
belt, and a little canteen of wine and water, and a tiny tin mug; and
them little things driving the old black ayah half-wild with the way
they used to dodge away from her to get amongst the men, who took no end
of delight in bamboozling the fat old woman when she was hunting for
them; sending them here, and there, and everywhere, till she'd turn
round and make signs with her hands, and spit on the ground, which was
her way of cursing us. For I must say that we English were very, very
careless about what we did or said to the natives. Officers and men,
all alike, seemed to look upon them as something very little better than
beasts, and talked to them as if they had no feelings at all