suppose it's because it's
their name."

"Five-barbelled fish, Pete, eh?"

"Just like them, sir. Then why don't they call them barbel, sir, like
we do? I have seen lots of them ketched up Teddington way by the
gentlemen in punts--whackers, too--not poor little tiddlers like these
'ere. We ought to go right up the river in a sampan, with plenty of
bait, and try in a bit of sharp stream close to one of them deep holes."

"No good, Pete. We shouldn't do any good. Those beauties of crocodiles
clear out the holes."

"What! whacking the water, sir, with their tails? I've heerd them lots
of times. Rum place this 'ere, sir, ain't it?"

"Yes, Pete; rather a change from England. But it is very beautiful, and
I like it."

"Well, yes, sir; that's right enough. So do I like it. I often think
it would be just lovely if old Ripsy would get down with the fever. My
word! what would he be like when Dr Morley had done with him, and he
began to crawl about and use his cane to help him hobble, instead of
being so jolly handy with it in his fashion?"

"Peter Pegg, that's a nasty, revengeful way of talking."

"Is it, sir?" said the young private, giving himself a twist, as if in
recollection of a tap with the cane.

"Yes. You don't mean to tell me that you wish Sergeant Ripsy would
catch this nasty jungle fever?"

"No, sir, I don't want to tell you; but I do."

"I don't believe you, Pete. The Sergeant's a fine soldier and a brave
man, and I honestly believe that he thinks he is doing his duty."

"Oh, he's brave enough, I dare say. So are you, sir."

"Bosh!"

"So am I, sir."

"Double bosh! Turkish for nothing, Pete."

"Is it, sir? I don't care. I know when the row comes off with that
there Rajah Solomon--and there's a pretty bit of cheek, sir: him, a
reg'lar heathen, going and getting himself called by a Christian name!
I should like to give him Solomon--you'll fight with the best of them,
sir. I often think about it. You'll fight with the best of them, sir.
And 'tain't brag, Mr Archie Maine, sir--you let me see one of them
beggars coming at you with his pisoned kris or his chuck-spear, do you
mean to tell me I wouldn't let him have the bayonet? And bad soldier or
no, I _can_ do the bayonet practice with the best of them. Old Tipsy
did own to that."

"Look here, Pete; you are what the Yankees call blowing now. Let's wait
till the time comes, and then we shall see what we shall see. And look
here; do