By mere rotundity of speech.

O. S.

* * * * *

A LIAR'S MASTERPIECE.

My friend Arthur's hobby is the stupendous. He conceives himself to
be the direct successor of the mediaeval travel-story merchants.
War-tales, of course, are barred to him, for nothing is too improbable
to have happened during the War, and all the best lies were used by
professionals while Arthur was still serving. Once, however, in his
career he has realised his ambition to be taken for a perfect liar,
and that time he happened to be speaking the simple truth. I was his
referee and he did it in this wise.

When ALLENBY was making his last great drive against the Turk, he was
no doubt happy in the knowledge that Arthur and I were pushing East
through Bulgaria to take his adversary in the rear. We pushed with
speed and address, but just when it looked as if we should exchange
the tactical for the practical we stopped and rusticated at the hamlet
of Skeetablista, on the Turco-Bulgarian frontier.

Skeetablista was under the control of Marko and Stefan and an assorted
following of Bulgar cut-throats. Although the mutual hatchet had been
interred a bare three weeks we found ourselves among friends. Thomas
Atkins was soon talking Bulgarian with ease and fluency, while his
"so-called superiors," as the company Bolshevik put it, celebrated the
occasion by an international dinner in Marko's quarters. The dinner
consisted chiefly of rum (provided by us) and red pepper (provided by
Marco and Stefan).

These latter were bright and eager youths from Sofia military academy,
and while the rum and red pepper passed gaily round they talked the
shop of their Bulgarian Sandhurst in a queer mixture of English
and French. They made living figures for us of the KAISER, who had
inspected them not long before, of FERDIE and of BORIS his son, and
told moving tales of British gunfire from the wrong end. We countered
with KITCHENER, LLOYD GEORGE and the British Navy, while outside in
the night the Thracian wolves howled derisively at both alike.

"I should like plenty to travel away and see the other countries,"
said Marko, rolling us cigarettes after dinner. "This is a good
country, but _ennuyant_. 'Ow the wolfs make plenty _brouhaha_
to-night, _hein_? Stefan, did you command the guard to conduct our
frien's 'ome?"

Stefan waggled his head from side to side in assent.

"Yes," continued Marko, "to see Italie, Paris, Londres. Par