His little stroke of humor pleased the Colonel, and, further, he felt slightly ashamed of the language he had been using. The Second-in-Command worried him again, and the two sat talking far into the night. Next day but one, there was a Commanding Officer's parade, and the Colonel harangued the White Hussars vigorously. The pith of his speech was that, since the Drum-Horse in his old age had proved himself capable of cutting up the whole Regiment, he should return to his post of pride at the head of the Band, _but_ the Regiment were a set of ruffians with bad consciences. The White Hussars shouted, and threw everything movable about them into the air, and when the parade was over, they cheered the Colonel till they couldn't speak. No cheers were put up for Lieutenant Hogan-Yale, who smiled very sweetly in the background. Said the Second-in-Command to the Colonel, unofficially-- "These little things ensure popularity, and do not the least affect discipline." "But I went back on my word," said the Colonel. "Never mind," said the Second-in-Command. "The White Hussars will follow you anywhere from to-day. Regiments are just like women. They will do anything for trinketry." A week later, Hogan-Yale received an extraordinary letter from some one who signed himself "Secretary, _Charity and Zeal_, 3709, E. C.," and asked for "the return of our skeleton which we have reason to believe is in your possession." "Who the deuce is this lunatic who trades in bones?" said Hogan-Yale. "Beg your pardon, Sir," said the Band-Sergeant, "but the skeleton is with me, an' I'll return it if you'll pay the carriage into the Civil Lines. There's a coffin with it, Sir." Hogan-Yale smiled and handed two rupees to the Band-Sergeant, saying, "Write the date on the skull, will you?" If you doubt this story, and know where to go, you can see the date on the skeleton. But don't mention the matter to the White Hussars. I happened to know something about it, because I prepared the Drum-Horse for his resurrection. He did not take kindly to the skeleton at all. AT TWENTY-TWO Narrow as the womb, deep as the Pit, and dark as the heart of a man.--_Sonthal Miner's Proverb_. "A weaver went out to reap but stayed to unravel the corn-stalks. Ha! Ha! Ha! Is there any sense in a weaver?" Janki Meah glared at Kundoo, but, as Janki Meah was blind, Kundoo was not impressed. He had come to argue with Janki Meah, and, if chance favored, to make love to the old man's pretty young wife.