kept
me awake all night."

"So he did me, sir."

"Yes," said Archie, laughing; "but you've slept all day since."

"Right, sir. That's one to you, Mister Archie. Well, sir, that's our
game, just as I say. We'll lay up a good stock of rations--I mean save
the fresh and keep on eating the stale, and be all ready for the right
morning, and when it comes, nip outside, mount the helephant, and away
we will go--I mean, that is, if you think that you can creep up same as
I do, and lower yourself down from the roof."

"I think I could now, Pete."

The lad grunted.

"What do you mean by that?"

"It means I don't, sir. I know you'd _try_, but _try_ ain't enough.
You must _do_. Still, it don't mean that we are going to start
to-morrow morning; and a good job, too, because there's grub, and our
sleep-chests is pretty well empty. We must both be as fit as fiddles,
sir, and then we can play a tune that will make the niggers stare."

"Yes," said Archie, after lying in silence for a few minutes, with the
darkness rapidly approaching. "We will worry our brains no more. This
plan is simple. We will be prepared, and then good luck go with us. We
will make our start."

"Bray-vo!" cried Peter. "That's talking like our own old Mister Archie.
I say, sir, you are picking up!"

"Am I, Pete?" said the lad sadly. "Feel my arm."

Pete ran his hand down his companion's limb from shoulder to wrist.

"Well, sir, that's all right."

"All right! Why, I feel like a skeleton."

"Well, but the bones is all right, sir. You went for ever so long
without eating anything at all but water, and there ain't no chew in
that; and when you did begin to peck, what's it been? Soaked bread, and
'nanas and pumpkins. You couldn't expect to get fat on them. Just wait
till we get back to camp, and you are put on British beef and chicken,
and them pheasants as you officers shoot. My," said the lad, with a
smack of his lips, "couldn't I tackle one now--stuffed with bread-crumbs
and roasted! I should be sorry for the poor dog as had to live on the
bones. A bit of fish, too, fried, sir--even if it was only them ikon
Sammy Langs. Here, stow it! I only wanted you not to fidget about
being a bit fine. You get your pluck, Mister Archie; and you are doing
that fast. Never mind about the fat and lean so long as you feel that
you can hit out with your fist or tackle a kris chap with one of our
spears. Doing a thing, sir, is saying you will