' So Adrian was fixed to drink the King and Fox-hunting, and study up the Native Army in India (I'd like to see 'em myself), till the British General had taught the male white citizens of Great Britain how to ride. Don't misunderstand me, Sir. I loved that General. After ten minutes I loved him, and I wanted to laugh at him; but at the same time, sitting there and hearing him talk about the centuries, I tell you, Sir, it scared me. It scared me cold! He admitted everything—he acknowledged the corn before you spoke—he was more pleased to hear that his men had been used to wipe the veldt with than I was when I knocked out Tom Reed's two lead-horses—and he sat back and blew smoke through his nose and matured his men like cigars and—he talked of the everlastin' centuries!
' I went to bed nearer nervous prostration than I'd come in a long time. Next morning me and Captain Mankeltow fixed up what his shrapnel had left of my Zigler for transport to the railroad. She went in on her own wheels, and I stencilled her “Royal Artillery Mess, Woolwich,” on the muzzle, and he said he'd be grateful if I'd take charge of her to Cape Town, and hand her over to a man in the Ordnance there. “How are you fixed financially? You'll need some money on the way home,” he says at last.
' “For one thing, Cap,” I said, “I'm not a poor man, and for another I'm not going home. I am the captive of your bow and spear. I decline to resign office.”
' “Skittles!” he says (that was a great word
