Florian having, as he now deemed, no right to the name of Melfort, or even that of MacIan, had enlisted under the latter name, as that by which he had been known from infancy, lest he might make a false attestation. The name of Gyle he shrank from, even if it was his--which at times he doubted! His regiment was the brave old 24th, or Second Warwickshire, which had been raised in the eventful year 1689 by Sir Edward Dering, Bart, of Surrenden-Dering, head of one of the few undoubted Saxon families in England, and it was afterwards commanded in 1695 by Louis, Marquis de Puizar. Second to none in the annals of war during the reigns of Anne and the early Georges, the 24th in later times served with valour at the first capture of the Cape of Good Hope, in the old Egyptian campaign, in the wars of Spain and India, and now they were once again to cover themselves with a somewhat clouded and desperate glory in conflict with the gallant Zulus. Florian in his new career found himself occasionally among a somewhat mixed and rough lot--the raw, weedy soldiers of the new disastrous system--but there were many who were of a better type; and the thought of Dulcie Carlyon--the only friend he had in the world, the only human creature who loved him--kept him free from the temptations and evil habits of the former; and he strove to live a steady, pure, and brave life, that he might yet be worthy of her, and give her no cause to blush for him. He got through his drilling as quickly as he could, and soon discovered that the sooner a soldier takes his place in the ranks the better for himself. He found that though many of his comrades were noisy, talkative, and quarrelsome, that the English soldier quicker than any other discovers and appreciates a gentleman. His officers soon learned to appreciate him too, and hence the rapidity with which he won his three chevrons, and Mr. Sheldrake felt that, young though he was, he could trust Florian to go round the sentinels. Each was at his post, and the attention of each increased as the gloom after sunset deepened, for none knew who or what might be approaching stealthily and unseen among the long wavy grass and mossy dongas that yawned amid the country in front. 'Hush, Bob!' said he to his comrade, Edgehill, whom he heard singing merrily to himself, 'you should be mute as a fish on outpost duty, and keep your ears open as well as your eyes. What have you got in your head, Bob, that makes you so silly? But, as the author of the "Red Rag" says, we soldiers have not much in our heads at any time, or we wouldn't go trying to stop cannon balls or bullets with them.' 'Right you are, Sergeant,' replied Bob, 'but I can't think what made you--a gentleman--enlist.' 'Because I was bound to be a soldier, I suppose. And you?' 'Through one I wish I never had seen?' 'Who was that?' 'The handsome young girl, With her fringe in curl, That worked a sewing-machine,'