“Hang these examinations! They spoil the good men and make the bad ones worse. I’ll have no one up here who would sacrifice his real work to them. If you can’t keep your studies to the hot hours, when you young fellows think it’ll kill you to go out, better give them up. Your munshi must be a queer sort if he’s willing to work all day with you. Who is he, by the bye? Fazl-ul-Hacq?--not one of the regular Bab-us-Sahel munshis, surely? Next time you come in, make some excuse to bring him with you, and I’ll have a look at him. He never seems to be forthcoming when I hunt you up at Shah Nawaz, and when a man keeps out of sight in that way it doesn’t look well. You think he’s all right, I suppose?” Now was Ferrers’ chance. With one effort he might break with his old life and throw off the Mirza’s yoke, exchanging his solitary indolence at Shah Nawaz for the incessant activity which was the portion of all who worked under Major Keeling’s own eye. But to do this he must confess to the man he disliked that he felt himself unfit for responsibility, and that he had practically betrayed the trust reposed in him. Moreover, not a man in the province but would believe he had been deprived of his command as a punishment. This thought was decisive, and he answered quickly-- “Yes, sir; I believe he is an excellent teacher, and he makes himself useful as a clerk when I want one.” “Well, don’t let him become indispensable. That plays the very mischief with these fellows. They think they’ve got the Sahib under their thumb, and can do as they like, and very often, when it’s too late, the Sahib finds out that it’s true. Give your man his _rukhsat_ [leave to depart] in double quick time if you see that he’s inclined to presume.” Wondering savagely what Major Keeling would think of the actual terms which prevailed between Fazl-ul-Hacq and his employer, Ferrers acquiesced with outward meekness, and took his leave. Colin Ross had promised to accompany him part of the way back, and with a couple of troopers as escort they rode out into the desert. As they passed the hospital, Dr Tarleton appeared on the verandah, and shook his fist at Ferrers. “You rascal!” he cried. “Those words of command you gave me were all humbug. Just wait until I get you in hospital!” “What does he mean?” asked Colin, as Ferrers rode on laughing. “Oh, he was trying to drill a lot of non-combatants this morning, and asked me how to get them out of a corner. Of course I favoured him with a few directions, with the result that his squad got more gloriously mixed up than ever. Only wish I had seen them!” “Tarleton is a good fellow,” said Colin, with apparent irrelevance. “Don’t be a prig, young ’un. Must have a bit of fun sometimes. What is a man to do, stuck down in a desert under a commandant who’s either a scoundrel or silly?” “You mean what the Major was telling us at tiffin? But it’s perfectly true: they did surrender the moment they saw him.”