"Oh, I say," he cried. "Only look! Here yer are, then. Here's yer hoky-poky. Here's yer real 'apenny ices laid on free gratis for nothing. Here yer are, sir; which 'll yer 'ave, strorbry or rarsbry? The real oridgenal 'stablishment, kep' by Billi Sneakino Pianni Organni. Who says hoky-poky?" "Why, 'tis real ice, Bill," said one of the men. "Snow," said another. "Gahn!" cried Private Gedge, scooping up a couple of handfuls. "It's hailstones, that's what it is. You on'y get snow atop o' the high mountains." "But it is snow, my lad," said a voice from behind, and the party started round, to see that a couple of their officers had followed to look at the glittering rift which ran right up hundreds of feet. "We're pretty high now." "How high, sir?" said Gedge, saluting. "We're at the top of the pass now," said the young officer who had spoken; "ten thousand feet above the sea." "Why, that's higher than the top of Saint Paul's, sir," said one of the men. "Top o' Saint Paul's," cried Gedge scornfully. "Why, it's higher than the Monniment atop o' that. Higher than 'Amstead, ain't it, sir?" "Yes," said the young officer, smiling.--"Don't straggle away, my lads. Keep close in." The speaker strolled away back with his companion towards where the native servants were busily preparing the mess meal, and their men looked after them. "Ain't them two chummy?" said one. "They jest are," said Gedge. "That Captain Roberts aren't a bad sort; but Mr Bracy's the chap for my money. He looks as if he could fight, too, if we had a row with the niggers." "Oh, I don't know," said another superciliously; "you can't never tell. Some o' them nice-looking dossy chaps ain't up to much. They can talk, but they talk too fast. How could he know we were ten thousand foot high? Why, that must be miles, and that's all stuff." "What do you know about it, stoopid?" cried Gedge fiercely. "Miles. Why, of course it is. Ain't we come miles this morning?" "Longwise, but not uppards." "Not uppards? Why, it's been sich a gettin' upstairs ever since we started this morning. Don't you be so jolly ready to kick again' your orficers. Mr Bracy's a reg'lar good sort; and if we comes to a set-to with the niggers he'll let some of yer see. I say, though, think we shall have a row?" "You bet! I heered Sergeant Gee say we should be at it 'fore long, and that these here--what do they call 'em?" "Dwats," said one of the men. "Yes, that's it," cried Gedge. "That's right. I remember, because I said to myself if we did we'd jolly soon give 'em Dwat for." Just then a bugle rang out, and the men doubled back for the lines, where, thanks to the clever native cooks, a hastily prepared meal was ready and made short work of, the keen mountain air and the long march having given the men a ravenous appetite. CHAPTER TWO. THE COLONEL.