see Danby again to-night, and hear how
the man is going on."

A minute later I was walking across in the darkness, with Brace, waiting
for him to speak, and listening to the regular tramp of the sentry near
us, and the softer sound of another at a distance, like an echo of the
one by the officers' quarters.

But we had reached my quarters, and still Brace did not speak.

"Good night," I said, coldly.

"I am very sorry, Vincent," he said, ignoring my extended hand; and I
felt, more than ever, that we never could be friends.

"Then you think I have done very wrong?" I said bitterly.

"Yes, very wrong. As an officer, you had no right to strike one of the
men."

"Then you would have me stand by and see the poor fellows about us
struck, kicked, and insulted, until it is beyond bearing," I cried
passionately. "I declare I wonder sometimes that they don't rise up
against us, and put an end to the cruel oppression from which they
suffer."

"Hush!" he said gravely. "You are letting your tongue get the better of
your discretion, Vincent. You, a young officer, can only amend these
ways by your example. You must see, when you are cooler, that you have
been guilty of a grave breach of discipline. I am speaking as your
brother-officer, who sincerely wishes to see you rise in the profession
you have chosen. We have been thrown together, and I hoped, by my
experience, to help you--one so much younger--living, as you are, among
strangers. It is not a pleasant task, Vincent, for I cannot help seeing
that you resent my interference often, and think me cold, hard, and
unsympathetic. There, good night for the present. I will come on
later, and report how the man is."

He turned on his heel, and I stood listening to the tramp of his feet
till he turned in to his own quarters, while I sat down to think, after
telling the servants to go to bed.

It was a miserable night for me. The window was open, and the hot wind
came in, making me feel so low and depressed, that life was almost
unbearable. There was the _ping, ping, ping_, of the mosquitoes, and
the piteous wailing shriek of the jackals as they hunted in a pack, and
there, too, was the monotonous tramp of the sentry, hour after hour.

"Asleep, Vincent?"

I started from a nap to see the open window a little darker.

"No. I have been dozing. How is he?"

"I have just come from the hospital. There is no concealing the fact,
my lad, that he is very bad; but let