hey did in those
bygone days--Tom kneeling still by the bedside with his head upon his
arms, and Charlie turned towards him with one hand upon his friend's,
and I--I lay between them.

Thus the sultry Indian night passed, and then at the little window
opposite there came a faint gleam of light.

Charlie woke first, and, laying his hand gently on Tom's arm, said, "Tom
Drift, old fellow!"

With a start and a bound Tom was awake and on his feet, staring in a
bewildered way round him.

At last his eyes fell on Charlie, and he remembered where he was. "I
was asleep and dreaming," he said.

"So was I," said Charlie--and _I_ could almost guess what their dreams
had been.

"Now, Tom," said Charlie, "you must look to my wound."

"My poor boy!" exclaimed Tom; "to think I have forgotten it all this
time!"

"It's not worth bothering about, after all," said my master, "But see,
Tom, the day is breaking."

"Ay!" said Tom, looking down with a new light in his weary eyes, "the
day _is_ breaking!"

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.

WHICH BRINGS MY ADVENTURES TO A CLOSE.

Reader, be my companion in one scene more, and my story is done.

A month or two ago there was a grand merrymaking at the house of one
Charles Newcome, Esquire, late captain in her Majesty's army, to
celebrate the tenth birthday of his son, Master Thomas James Newcome.
The company was mostly juvenile, and included, of course, the gallant
captain's two little girls and his younger son, that most terrible of
all Turks, Charlie the younger. Then there were all the little boys and
girls living in the square, and many others from a distance, and one or
two big boys and girls, and one or two young gentlemen who stroked their
chins as if something was to be felt there, and one or two young ladies
who would not take twice of sponge-cake, for fear of looking as if they
were hungry. But besides these there were a few grown-up people
present, whom I must not forget to name. Naturally the gallant captain
was one, and the gallant captain's lady was another; and then there were
the last-named lady's two brothers there, one a clergyman called the
Reverend James Halliday, and the other (and elder) Mr Joseph Halliday,
a civil engineer with a ferocious pair of whiskers. And, to complete
the party, there was present a grave, anxious-looking gentleman by the
name of Mr Drift, a surgeon.

These all sat apart and looked on while the young folk enjoyed
themselves. And how th