e his
cot; a devoted sepoy-orderly from the regiment guarded his cavalcade,
and, when permitted, proudly bore him in his arms.

Major John Decies visited him frequently, watched and waited, waited
and watched, and, though not a youth, "thought long, long thoughts".

He also frequently laid his views and theories on paternal duties
before Colonel de Warrenne, until pointedly asked by that officer
whether he had no duties of his own which might claim his valuable
time.

Years rolled by, after the incorrigible habit of years, and the infant
Damocles grew and developed into a remarkably sturdy, healthy,
intelligent boy, as cheerful, fearless, impudent, and irrepressible as
the heart of the Major could desire--and with a much larger
vocabulary than any one could desire, for a baby.

On the fifth anniversary of his birthday he received a matutinal call
from Major Decies, who was returning from his daily visit to the Civil
Hospital.

The Major bore a birthday present and a very anxious, undecided mind.

"Good morrow, gentle Damocles," he remarked, entering the big verandah
adown which the chubby boy pranced gleefully to meet his beloved
friend, shouting a welcome, and brandishing a sword designed, and
largely constructed, by himself from a cleaning-rod, a tobacco-tin
lid, a piece of wood, card-board and wire.

"Thalaam, Major Thahib," he said, flinging himself bodily upon that
gentleman. "I thaw cook cut a fowl's froat vis morning. It squorked
boofly."

"Did it? Alas, that I missed those pleasing-er-squorks," replied the
Major, and added: "This is thy natal day, my son. Thou art a man of
five."

"I'm a debble. I'm a _norful_ little debble," corrected Damocles,
cheerfully and with conviction.

"Incidentally. But you are five also," persisted the senior man.

"It's my birfday to-day," observed the junior.

"I just said so."

"_That_ you didn't, Major Thahib. This is a thword. Father's charger's
got an over-weach. Jumping. He says it's a dam-nuithanth."

"Oh, that's a sword, is it? And 'Fire' has got an over-reach. And
it's a qualified nuisance, is it?"

"Yeth, and the mare is coughing and her _thythe_ is a blathted fool
for letting her catch cold."

"The mare has a cold and the _syce_[4] is a qualified fool, is he?
H'm! I think it's high time you had a look in at little old England,
my son, what? And who made you this elegant rapier? Ochterlonie Sahib
or--who?" (Lieutenant Lord Ochterlonie was the Adjutant