"Stovey tried to recover himself and pass it all over, but he let me keep the gun and went to bed. About two days afterwards old Baggs turned up on tour, and I told him Stovey wanted watching--more than I could give him. I don't know whether Baggs or the _pi_ did it, but he didn't throw any more suicidal splints. I was transferred a little while afterwards." "Ever meet the man again?" "Yes; once at Sheik Katan dâk bungalow--trailing the big brindle _pi_ after him." "Oh, it was real, then. I thought it was arranged for the occasion." "Not a bit. It was a _pukka pi_. Stovey seemed to remember me in the same way that a horse seems to remember. I fancy his brain was a little cloudy. We tiffined together--_after_ the _pi_ had been fed, if you please--and Stovey said to me: 'See that dog? He saved my life once. Oh, by the way, I believe you were there, too, weren't you?' I shouldn't care to work with Stovey again." * * * * * There was a holy pause in the smoking-room of the Toopare Club. "What I like about Saveloy's play," said Martha, looking at the ceiling, "is the beautifully artistic way in which he follows up a flush with a full. Go to bed, old man!" FOOTNOTES: [Footnote 15: From the "Week's News," April 7, 1888.] "SLEIPNER," LATE "THURINDA"[16] There are men, both good and wise, who hold that in a future state Dumb creatures we have cherished here below Will give us joyous welcome as we pass the Golden Gate. Is it folly if I hope it may be so? --_The Place Where the Old Horse Died._ If there were any explanation available here, I should be the first person to offer it. Unfortunately, there is not, and I am compelled to confine myself to the facts of the case as vouched for by Hordene and confirmed by "Guj," who is the last man in the world to throw away a valuable horse for nothing.