“By-the-way, Rex,” remarked Geoffrey, leaning back in his chair, adjusting his eye-glass, and evidently stretching his long legs still farther under the mahogany, with the air of a man who has dined to his satisfaction, “what’s your opinion of the native of that part of the world, candidly and impartially?” “If you mean the Afridi of the period, my candid, impartial opinion of him is that he is a dirty-looking ruffian, who would rob his own mother, and cut his father’s throat for the sake of two rupees.” “Inhuman monster!” ejaculated Helen, tragically. “One old fellow told me _himself_ that there was nothing in life so pleasant as sitting on the roof of one’s house, and shooting at the wayfarers who came to drink at the well. He dwelt on the subject with such pleasure, that I have no doubt that he looked back on it as one of his happiest experiences.” “Old brute!” muttered Geoffrey. “_How_ I should have enjoyed a pot-shot at _him_! What sort of shots were they, take them all in all?” “Not bad, considering their weapons and ammunition; a long Jazail studded with brass, and rams’ horns full of very doubtful powder. They are no use at a snap shot, or in the open; but give them _lots_ of time to aim, and good cover behind a bit of rock, and they generally pick off a fair share of stragglers. The first night we camped beyond Ali Musjid we chose a bad place, a hollow, and the light attracted swarms all round us. The bullets went everywhere, and the firing resembled nothing on earth so much as a hot corner at a big battue.” “Awfully pleasant for all you fellows!” ejaculated Geoffrey. “We had only two casualties, strange to say, though some of the tents were riddled. I need scarcely remark that we were more careful about the site of our next camp.” “No doubt you made yourselves very secure and luxurious when you were permanently fixed at Dabaule?” inquired Helen. “Comparatively speaking I suppose we were more secure, although Vaughan caught an Afridi in his tent one night. He heard a noise, and putting out his hand to get hold of a revolver, he caught the bare, shaven head of one of these beggars. He gave the alarm, and some of us rushed in and found him struggling with a powerful fellow, with the fiend’s own expression and a knife between his teeth. We made an example of him next day as a warning to others. But it was of precious little use; they slaughtered our unfortunate grass-cutters and syces in the most barbarous way, and sent us in our regimental barber with both hands cut off. He did not seem to mind _that_ so much as eighty rupees they had robbed him of, and he was utterly heartbroken about them--his savings, his little all. So I promised to make up the money if he got well; and, strange to say, he made a most wonderfully rapid recovery, and seems to get on capitally with his two bare stumps.” “Poor creature!” exclaimed Helen. “How horrible!” cried Miss Ferrars.