ible sight was Bones at that early hour with the open pyjama
jacket showing his scraggy neck, with his fish mouth drooping dismally,
his round, staring eyes and his hair rumpled up, one frantic tuft at
the back standing up in isolation.

Hamilton stared at him, and it was the stern stare of a disciplinarian.
But Bones was not to be put out of countenance by so small a thing as an
icy glance.

"There is no sense in getting peevish with me, old Ham," he said,
squatting down on the nearest chair; "this is what I call a stupid,
officious, unnecessary letter. Why this haughtiness? Why these crushing
inferences? Why this unkindness to poor old Bones?"

"The fact of it is, Bones," said Hamilton, accepting the situation, "you
are spending too much of your time in the telegraph station."

Bones got up slowly.

"Captain Hamilton, sir!" he said reproachfully, "after all I have done
for you."

"Beyond selling me one of your beastly sweepstake tickets for five
shillings," said Hamilton, unpleasantly; "a ticket which I dare say you
have taken jolly good care will not win a prize, I fail to see in what
manner you have helped me. Now, Bones, you will have to pay more
attention to your work. There is no sense in slacking; we will have
Sanders back here before we know where we are, and when he starts nosing
round there will be a lot of trouble. Besides, you are shirking."

"Me!" gasped Bones, outraged. "Me--shirking? You forget yourself, sir!"

Even Bones could not be dignified with a lather brush in one hand and a
half-shaven cheek, testifying to the hastiness of his departure from
his quarters.

"I only wish to say, sir," said Bones, "that during the period I have
had the honour to serve under your command I have settled possibly more
palavers of a distressingly ominous character than the average
Commissioner is called upon to settle in the course of a year."

"As you have created most of the palavers yourself," said Hamilton
unkindly, "I do not deny this. In other words, you have got yourself
into more tangles, and you've had to crawl out more often."

"It is useless appealing to your better nature, sir," said Bones.

He saluted with the hand that held the lather brush, turned about like
an automaton, tripped over the mat, recovered himself with an effort,
and preserving what dignity a man can preserve in pink-striped pyjamas
and a sun helmet, stalked majestically back to his quarters. Half-way
across he remembered somet