ertaining a distinguished guest at the evening meal of tinned rabbit
and dates. Their visitor was none other than F. Ainslie-Barkleigh, the
famous English war-correspondent. He was dressed for the part. He wore
high top-boots, whose red leather shone richly even in the dim yellow of
the lantern that lit them to their feast. About his neck was swung a
heavy black strap from which hung a pair of very elegant field-glasses,
ready for service at a moment's call. He could sweep a battle-field
with them, or expose a hidden battery, or rake a road. From the belt
that made his jacket shapely about his person, there depended a map of
the district, with heavy inked red lines for the position of friend or
foe. He was a tall man, with an immense head, on which were stuck, like
afterthoughts, very tiny features--a nose easily overlooked, a thin slit
of a mouth, and small inset eyes. All the upper part of him was
overhanging and alarming, till you chanced on those diminutive features.
It was as if his growth had been terminated before it reached the
expressive parts. He had an elaborate manner--a reticence, a drawl, and
a chronic irony. Across half of his chest there streaked a rainbow of
color; gay little ribbons of decoration, orange and crimson and purple
and white.

Mrs. Bracher, sturdy, iron-jawed, and Scotch, her pretty young
assistant, sat opposite him at table. Hilda did the honors by sitting
next him, and passing him tins of provender, as required.

"What pretty ribbons you wear," said Hilda. "Where did you get them?"

"Oh, different wars," returned Barkleigh carelessly.

"That's modest, but it's vague," urged Hilda. "If I had such pretty
ribbons, I should have the case letter and the exhibit number printed on
each. Now this one, for instance. What happened to set this fluttering?"

"Oh, that one," he said, nearly twisting his eyes out of their sockets
to see which one her fingers had lighted on. "That's one the Japs gave
me."

"Thank you for not calling them the little brown people," returned
Hilda; "that alone would merit decoration at their hands. And this gay
thing, what principality gave you this?"

"That came from somewhere in the Balkans. I always did get those states
muddled up."

"Incredible haziness," responded Hilda. "You probably know the exact
hour when the King and his Chief of Staff called you out on the
Town-hall steps. You must either be a very brave man or else write very
nice articles about the ru