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nearly a quarter of a mile inland. Here, however, the current becoming weaker and more erratic, the serangs were able to row an indirect course, which took them appreciably nearer the anarchists, who still lay below them down-stream. These latter could be seen making desperate efforts to refloat the dug-out, but it appeared to be irrevocably fixed where it had first grounded. At intervals both sides sniped each other in the moonlight, but with no effect that was apparent. Meanwhile the dingey was rowed back to a strategic point from which it seemed probable-after observing the course of minor flotsam as it passed-that the current would eventually carry them straight down upon their prey. Bidding the serangs ship their oars and draw their knives, the Policeman steered the little boat into the very heart of the next eddy, simultaneously announcing his intention of "letting her rip."

He let her rip, with the most astonishing results for all concerned. The dingey slipping into the eddy sprung round twice like a teetotum, and then in a flash before either friend or foe knew exactly what had happened, she had charged the dug-out broadside on, with all the accuracy and velocity of a well-directed torpedo. After that, as the Hun-Child said -borrowing metaphor from 'Alice in Wonderland'-"most things twinkled."

To describe with any degree of lucidity the varying fortunes of a life and death

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struggle which took place by moonlight in three or four feet of mud and water between the late occupants of two capsized boats is obviously no easy task. Suffice to say that the Subaltern more than once realised his ambition of a "heartto-heart talk" with his foes. Firearms-as such-played little part in the mêlée, because nearly all of them were jammed with mud and thus rendered useless. The police, however, were using the butt in such cases as the collision had not parted them from their carbines.

Where they had lost these weapons they drew their bayonets from their belts and stabbed; the anarchists struck back with pistol-butt, oarblade, and in two cases with Russian sword walking-sticks. The Hun- Child was being rather badly punished by two heavily-built men, who had collared him low and dragged him down. With great promptitude he had kioked the first in the stomach when attacked, and blacked the second's eye; but having lost his rifle he was unable to inflict mortal injury upon his assailants. They for their part were attempting to use their superiority in weight and numbers to thrust his head under the mud with the object of smothering him, At one time it looked as though their efforts might be crowned with success, for the Subaltern was built on the lines of a light-weight 'chase rider rather than wrestler, whereas both the Bengalis turned the scale at twelve or thirteen stone. For

bayonets half so much as the anarchists; for, as a class, the latter always relied on stream of bullets from their automatics to settle the police's hash when they came into collision with them, and pistols are singularly ineffectual weapons when used for anything except their natural purpose.

tunately, however, at this the affray had taken place oritical moment the Policeman had not handicapped the managed to struggle to his men armed with carbines or assistance. Vaguely-as one sees things in a dream-the Subaltern saw his rescuer stumble towards him; but he soaroely recognised his no longer blasé friend in this agile shadow that leaped suddenly upon his assailants' backs, and stabbed both scientifically in swift succession with a venemous-looking serang's knife. "Thanks, old chap," coughed the Subaltern, half stifled by slime, but still remembering the philosophy of his Surtees: "Luvely weather for beesain't it?"

How long the fracas lasted it would be rash to hazard any opinion. Three anarchists managed to flounder away from the mud-flat and apparently reached the flooded mainland; but it is more than probable that they were drowned there later, because they were never heard of again, and the flood rose much higher before the night was over. Of the rest, five of the gang were unquestionably dead, and three still remained. The latter stood sullenly at bay, their backs against the wreckage of the boats; but at this juncture both sides were so exhausted by their "tangle-foot" exertions in the glutinous bog, that a brief armistice ensued automatically. The Police had their casualties, too, but they were not so heavy as the enemy's. The fact that firearms had been rendered rendered valueless by the conditions under which

The Hun-Child was the first to recover his breath during this temporary pause in the proceedings. "This," he gasped, peering through a reeking mask of mud and weed like some diminutive Father Thames, "is no sort of a job for cavalry; but hang that! Come on, you chaps. 'Ware corpses! Worry! worry! Tear 'um an' eat 'um!" He made smothered hunting noises, and, straddling frog-like through the squelching ooze, flung himself upon the last of the enemy. The next thing he realised was a shattering blow across the side of his head, delivered unexpectedly by a hitherto concealed lifepreserver, and this was followed by a complete indifference to his immediate surroundings.

Maria had watched the departure of the Vampire with feelings of unmitigated relief.

At the best of times she disliked all forms of work intensely; but that she should now be expected to spend her usual week-end holiday out shikaring with hosts who pos

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sessed no wine cellar worth mentioning, seemed to her a positive outrage. When, therefore, a few days later, she perceived small curl of smoke upon the horizon, she watched it with grave mistrust; and when it proved to be the Vampire returning on the current with the speed of a destroyer, she raised her trunk to heaven and used an expression of which any lady elephant she was a lady-should have been thoroughly ashamed. The launch flashed past Maria's standings on the bank, and then turning paddled its laborious way back to its old moorings again. The Hun - Child was reclining on deck, his head swathed in bloody bandages. What his medical adviser in Mesopotamia-who had originally in valided him for shell-shookwould have thought of his patient's present idea of a restoure is only open to conjecture. However, notwithstanding his broken head, the Subaltern appeared in the best of spirits, as, for the twentieth time that morning, he helped his friend re-read a demi - official and guarded communication from his immediate superiors.

"They're obviously frightfully bucked with you," he was saying. "If you hadn't snaffled them, it looks as if there'd have been some dirty work with the Governor's special train next week. I bet they recommend you for the Police medal.”

"As I'm given to understand," said the Policeman oynically, "that all the many obscure rewards for middle

class virtues which obtain in this country are drawn from a lucky-bag on the principle of a lottery, I don't suppose it'll make much difference whether my name's sent in or not."

"Rot!" replied the Subaltern. "Simla's not so bad as you make out; besides which the Police medal isn't an obscure thingummybob for middle-class whatsitsnames."

The Vampirethumped heavily against the bank and hooted her syren to express her satisfaction at her safe return, and Maria hooted back at her-for different reasons.

"Anyway," continued the Subaltern as the anchor chains dribbled out in a rumbling stream of noise, "I've had a run for my money this whack of leave. Messpot'll be tame after this blasted province of yours. On my way here the train was tipped off the line by a landslip, and nobody seemed in the least surprised; then we nearly ran over that tigress in old Morrison's car; after that, I got slung over five acres of real estate by that d-d elephant; and finally, I've ended up by being sandbagged, mudlarkin' about on an oyster-bed, with a lot of lousy black Fenians."

His host laughed apologetically. "Yes," he admitted, "I'm afraid we are a bit jungli in this part of the world. You never know what's going to happen next. We've a local proverb-'one d-d thing after another'-from an earthquake to a hurricane. To be quite candid, I'm getting a bit fed up with it myself. Still," he added more cheerfully, "I don't

expect to stick here for ever. As you know, I've applied twice for the I.A.R.O., but so far they've told me that I couldn't be spared for the army. However, I'm having another shot once the rains are over, and I may have better luck next time."

"I should have thought," replied the Cavalryman rather dryly, "that you were already earnin' your eats pretty usefully in your present stable."

"Oh, we Policemen have our uses, I suppose. Who was it called us the soldier's little brother? All the same, I feel

an awful slacker messing about here doing nothing in partioular in war time."

The Hun-Child giggled. "If this sort of game is your idea of slackin' about and doin' nothin'," he said, rubbing his bandaged forehead, "God forbid that I should ever meet you when you're feelin' energetic! And now," he concluded indefatigably, "let's push off on shore and give Maria some more exercise. She's lookin' as gross as a travellin' M.P. I know what she wants before I go back to Calcutta, and that's a real good wheelin' into line!"

1 Indian Army Reserve of Officers.

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WHEN the breaking wavelets pass all sparkling to the sky,
When beyond their crests we see the slender masts go by,
When the glimpses alternate in bubbles white and green,
And funnels grey against the sky show clear and fair between,
When the word is passed along-"Stern and beam and bow"-
"Aotion stations fore and aft-all torpedoes now!"

When the hissing tubes are still, as if with bated breath
They waited for the word to loose the silver bolts of death,
When the Watoh beneath the Sea shall erown the great Desire,
And hear the coughing rush of air that greets the word to fire,
We'll ask for no advantage, Lord-but only we would pray
That they may meet this boat of ours upon their outward way.

THE BATTLE-FLEET.

The moment we have waited long
Is closing on us fast,

When, cutting short the turret-gong,
We'll hear the Cordite's Battle-song

That hails the Day at last.
The olashing rams come driving forth
To meet the waiting shell,

And far away to East and North

Our targets steam to meet Thy Wrath,

And dare the Gates of Hell.

We do not ask Thee, Lord, to-day

To stay the sinking sun—

But hear Thy steel-clad servants pray,
And keep, O Lord, Thy mists away

Until Thy work is done.

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