ll soaked. Now, what was it? Major John Knowle
requests the presence of Mr Archibald Maine--Mr Archibald Maine--
Archibald! What were the old people dreaming about? I don't know. It
always sets me thinking of old Morley--bald, with the top of his head as
shiny as a billiard-ball. Good old chap, though, even if he does bully
one--requests the presence of Mr Archibald Maine at his quarters at--at
seven o'clock this evening punctually. No. What's o'clock? I think it
was six. Couldn't be seven, because that's dinner-time, and he wouldn't
ask me then. It must be six. Here, I must get that note again, but I
feel so pumped out and languid that I am blessed if I am going to get up
and go hunting for that piece of paper. Phee-ew! It's hotter than
ever. I should just like to go down to the river-side, take off all my
clothes under the trees, and sit there right up to my chin, with the
beautiful, clear, cool water gurgling round my neck. Lovely! Yes--till
there came floating along a couple of those knobs that look like big
marbles--only all the time they are what old Morley calls ocular
prominences over the beastly leering eyes of one of those crocodiles on
the lookout for grub. Ugh! The beasts! Now, what could crocodiles be
made for?--Oh, here's somebody coming."

For all at once, faintly heard, the fag-end of the "British Grenadiers,"
whistled very much out of tune, came floating in at the window.

"Peter Pegg, by all that's lucky!"

The footsteps of some one evidently heavily laden came nearer and
nearer, till, just as they were about to pass the young officer's
quarters, the occupier screwed-up his lips and gave vent to a low, clear
note and its apparent echo, which sounded like the cry of some
night-bird.

The next moment there was the sound as of a couple of iron buckets being
set down upon the ground, followed by the _clang, clang_ of the handles;
a dark shadow crossed the window, and a voice exclaimed:

"You call, sir?"

"That you, Pete?"

"Yes, sir."

"What are you doing?"

"Fatigue-work, sir. Got to take these 'ere buckets round to cook's
quarters."

"Can you see a letter lying out there anywhere?"

"For the mail, sir?"

"Mail! No, stupid! A piece of notepaper."

"With writing on it, sir?"

"Of course."

"No, sir.--Oh yes, here it is, stuck in the flowers."

"Well, bring it to me."

"Can't, sir, without treading on the beds."

"Then bring it round to the door."

There was