ham accoutrements of war, was
prancing blithely to the song of "Lang-taraf-Tippalaerlee," and
as their leader pulled up to give me a grave and perfect salute I
recognised the son of old Bahadur Rai.

Now Bahadur Rai would be returning, and, as I recalled the man, I
wondered how he would take the news of Bibi, his capricious wife, for
I had heard (unofficially) that she had no intention of leaving the
lines of the 2nd Battalion, or the dashing young Naik Indrase. This
might be a bit awkward, I mused, remembering the tough little chap who
had been so popular with us all by reason of being the best _shikari_
in the regiment. His incorrigible love of sport may have made the
defaulter's sheet ugly (and there's no denying that "Absent with
leave" does not lead to quick promotion); but that was in the good
old days. Now he was returning covered with glory, and I was sorry
about Bibi.

The train arrived at noon with what our travelled Babu calls the
"blissies." They were nearly all marked "P.D.", and I hope it may be
given to me to look as cheerful when my turn comes to be Permanently
Disabled.

It was worth a week's pay to see the grins on their brown puckered
faces and hear their husky contented salaams as they were lifted from
the train. Blankets, top-coats, pillows, and other items belonging
to the State were gaily abandoned, but every man clung with tenacity
to his tunic and his water-bottle, for was there not a collection of
trophies in those bulging pockets and sea-water in those battered
bottles? Real salt sea-water, for the taste and enlightenment of
incredulous elders.

Outside the station the usual crowd had gathered, where it disported
itself like a herd of wild elephants. Veteran bandsmen played the
regimental march; casual minstrels blew conches or banged tom-toms;
and when at last the ambulance waggons moved off, drawn by oxen that
wore blue bead necklaces, and marigolds over their ears, one had the
proud satisfaction of feeling that the most perfect organisation in
the world could not have given our fine fellows a reception more after
their own hearts.

When we reached the parade-ground the scene was still merry and
bright, for there Gurkha ladies were massed in their many-coloured
_saris_, chattering for all the world like the parrakeets they
resembled. Dogs barked; pet names were squealed; old men waved their
staffs; children clung to the waggons and whooped, and when the
cortege finally turned into th