id Brumpton, rather gruffly, as he halted in front of
Jerry, with his battered bombardon in his hand, evidently on his way
from the band-room to the sergeants' quarters.

"Any news? Ain't come back, I s'pose?" said Jerry.

"No; he won't come back till he's brought," said Brumpton rather
sternly. Then, suddenly, "I told you about my bit of a row with
Wilkins?"

Jerry nodded.

"There's a fine upset about that. Can't tell yet what's to be the end
of it. I don't want to lose my stripes."

"Oh, they ought to let you off," said Jerry.

Sergeant Brumpton shook his head.

"Discipline," he said, "discipline. I oughtn't to have let my temper
get the better of me."

"But the officers won't be able to help laughing. He must have looked
like a periwinkle stuck in his shell. Go and tell him you're very
sorry, and shake hands."

"Ah! you don't understand our ways here, Brigley. He wouldn't take the
apology. He don't like me going there to practice, because it was all
through young Smithson, for he hates him like poison."

"Yes, or he wouldn't have said what he did," cried Jerry. "It was too
bad."

"Yes, too bad," said the sergeant, "when the poor lad didn't even take
his own instruments away with him."

"Didn't he?" cried Jerry, rather excitedly. "What, not them big and
little silver-keyed flutes?"

"No; they've got them up in his quarters, keeping them for him. Some of
the men are precious wild about what Wilkins said."

Jerry made no reply, but stood rubbing one side of his nose with his
finger.

"Well, why don't you speak?" said the sergeant.

"Because I was thinking," said Jerry; "and a man can't think of one
thing and talk of another at the same time."

"What were you thinking, then?"

"I was thinking it seemed strange for him to leave those flutes behind.
They was his own, and he set a deal of store by them."

"Well, what do you make of it, now you have thought it?"

"What do you?" replied Jerry.

"That it looks as if he meant to come back."

"Yes," said Jerry, mysteriously; "it do look like that. Are they trying
to find him?"

"Of course, they are trying their best. They won't stop till they
have."

"But ain't it making a deal o' fuss about one chap, and him not a
reg'lar fighting man?"

"'Tisn't that," said the sergeant; "it's the principle of the thing.
They wouldn't care about losing one man or a dozen; it's keeping up the
discipline. Young Smithson 'll be caught, and he'll b