296
LIFE'S HANDICAP
if there had been ten of us. Surely we must have been forgotten by our God.'
The remnant of the broken colony passed out of the station on their journey south; while a Subaltern, turning over the books on the bookstall, was whistling to himself 'The Ten Little Nigger Boys.'
But the tune sounded as solemn as the Dead March.
It was the dirge of the Jews in Shushan.
