e had purloined any of them, and
returned to his chair on the veranda without a word.

"Is he vindictive, then?" wondered Mahommed Gunga. "Is he a mean man?
Will he bear malice and get even with me later on? If so--"

"Present my compliments to Mahommed Gunga-sahib, and ask him to be good
enough to--"

The Risaldar heard the order, and was on his way to the veranda before
the servant started to convey the message. He took no chances on a
reprimand about his shoes, for he swaggered up in riding-boots, which
no soldier can be asked to take off before he treads on a private floor;
and he saluted as a soldier, all dignity. It was the only way by which
he could be sure to keep the muscles of his face from telling tales.

"Huzoor?"

"Morning, Mahommed Gunga. Take a seat, won't you?"

A camp-chair creaked under the descending Rajput's weight, and creaked
again as he remembered to settle himself less stiffly--less guiltily.

"I say, I'm going to ask you chaps to do me a favor. You don't mind
obliging me now and then, do you?"

The youngster leaned forward confidentially, one elbow on his knee, and
looked half-serious, as though what he had to ask were more important
than the ordinary.

"Sahib, there is nothing that we will not do."

"Ah! Then you won't mind my mentioning this, I'm sure. Next time you
want to kennel a tiger in my bedroom, d'you mind giving me notice in
advance? It's not the stink I mind, nor being waked up; it's the deuced
awful risk of hurting somebody. Besides--look how I spoilt that tiger's
mask! The skins I've always admired at home had been shot where it
didn't show so badly."

There was not even the symptom of a smile on Cunningham's face. He
looked straight into Mahommed Gunga's eyes, and spoke as one man talking
calm common sense to another. He raised his hand as the Rajput began to
stammer an apology.

"No. Don't apologize. If you'll forgive me for shooting your pet tiger,
I'll overlook the rest of it. If I'd known that you kept him in there
o' nights, I'd have chosen another room, that's all--some room where
I couldn't smell him, and where I shouldn't run the risk of killing an
inoffensive man. Why, I might have shot you! Think how sorry I'd have
been!"

The Risaldar did not quite know what to say; so, wiser than most, he
said nothing.

"Oh, and one other matter. I don't speak much of the language yet, so,
would you mind translating to my servant that the next time he goes sick
witho