"Glory, Glory, Halleujah, Glory, Glory, Halleujah, Glory, Glory, Halleujah, We’ve wrecked the Captains’ Home." It was in the after-discussion of the night’s escapade that Cocky Dan dared Jim Longlegs to sneak into the C.O.’s room and collar the colonel’s cork leg, which always lay by the side of his bed. "Done," said the senior sub before he realised his venture. But it had to go on. His pluck was at stake. There was a tense silence as he crept out of the room in his stocking soles. Quietly he opened the colonel’s door and slipped inside. The old gentleman lay on his bed asleep. Jim crept forward and stealthily picked up the colonel’s cork limb. He smiled grimly as he turned towards the door. Cocky Dan would have to yield him that fiver after all. But just as he touched the handle there was a rustle on the bed and then a terrible roar— "Damn you, Mr Longlegs—how dare you?...?...?" cursed the colonel, who slept lightly, due to his years of living amongst the Dervishes and Afridis. "I’m—I’m—I’m sor——" "Put that leg down—get out, you scamp. Report to me in the morning." The senior sub placed the leg down again, in the most shamefaced manner. He was sorry he had been caught. He had meant no disrespect, for the colonel was a lovable old gentleman at heart. But he had violated a sacred rule, and he guessed what the morning would bring forth. When he arrived back in the subs’ rooms his fellow-officers went pale with terror and quickly scampered to bed. "I think we ought to report this ragging business to the colonel," said a supercilious senior to old Major Tartan next morning. "What?" "Report it to the colonel!" "Don’t be an ass," said old Tartan, stumping out of the room. He had been a true subaltern in his day. The colonel, however, ordered the adjutant to bring Mr Longlegs in. "Well," commenced the old gentleman in his best official manner. "I—I—I’m very sorry, sir." "Should think you would be! Damned impertinence, sir. How dare you? How dare you? Never heard of such a thing in my life. Good mind to cashier you." "Really, I’m very sorry——" "Hold your tongue, sir." Then he harangued him in the best style of Judge Hawkins for a quarter of an hour, after which the senior sub felt like a little grease spot instead of a man. "Now you can go, sir; don’t let it happen again—understand!" "Yes, sir," said Longlegs, saluting and marching out. As the door shut, the colonel, with a subdued twinkle in his eye, remarked—"Useful man that, eh?" "Yes, sir," replied the adjutant. CHAPTER XII. THE GENERAL STAFF.