hat was why, twenty-four hours after the offending song was made, it
was suppressed; and in the sergeants' mess William Connor told the story
how, an hour before, he had met Subadar Goordit Singh in the encampment,
and the Subadar in a rage at the grin on Connor's face had made a rush
at him, which the Irishman met with his foot, spoiling his wind. That
had ended the incident for the moment, for the Sikh remembered in time,
and William Connor had been escorted "Berkshire way" by Corporal Bagshot
and Henry Withers. As the tale was told over and over again, there came
softly from the lips of the only other Irishman in the regiment, Jimmy
Coolin, a variant verse of the song that the great McNeill had stopped:

"Where is the shame of it,
Where was the blame of it,
William Connor dear?"

It was well for Graham, Hunter, McNeill, and their brigades that William
Connor and the Berkshires and the Subadar Goordit Singh had no idle time
in which to sear their difficulties, for, before another khamsin gorged
the day with cutting dust, every department of the Service, from the
Commissariat to the Balloon Detachment, was filling marching orders.
There was a collision, but it was the agreeable collision of preparation
for a fight, for it was ordained that the Berkshires and the Sikhs
should go shoulder to shoulder to establish a post in the desert between
Suakim and Tamai.

"D'ye hear that, William Connor dear?" said Private Coolin when the
orders came. "An' y'll have Subadar Goordit Singh with his kahars
and his bhistis and his dhooly bearers an' his Lushai dandies an'
his bloomin' bullock-carts steppin' on y'r tail as ye travel, Misther
Connor!"

"Me tail is the tail of a kangaroo; I'm strongest where they tread on
me, Coolin," answered Connor. "An' drinkin' the divil's chlorides from
the tins of the mangy dhromedairy has turned me insides into a foundry.
I'm metal-plated, Coolin."

"So ye'll need if ye meet the Subadar betune the wars!"

"Go back to y'r condinsation, Coolin. Bring water to the thirsty be
gravitation an' a four-inch main, an' shtrengthen the Bowl of the
Subadar wid hay-cake, for he'll want it agin the day he laves Tamai
behind! Go back to y'r condinsation, Coolin, an' take truth to y'r Bowl
that there's many ways to die, an' one o' thim's in the commysariat,
Coolin--shame for ye!"

Coolin had been drafted into the Commissariat and was now variously
employed, but chiefly at the