"'I'll see you 'ung first,' shouts the guv'nor. "The doctor shakes 'is 'ead. 'I may be 'ung,' 'e says, 'but you won't see it. You'll be in the morchury.' "The guv'nor starts explaining as a English orficer weren't afeared o' death but the doctor cuts 'im short by pointin' out that every minute 'e were talkin, the cholera were gettin' a better grip on 'im. "That settles it, and they all goes orf to the prison surgery--the 'ead warder 'elpin' Jackson, an' askin' 'im kind like whether there weren't no messages 'e could give for 'im after 'e was dead." "Time, gentlemen, please--time!" The gruff voice of the landlord broke in rudely. "That's always the way," remarked Bill bitterly, "jest as ye're gettin' interested in the conversation." "But wot 'appened?" demanded Sam eagerly. "Did 'e cure 'em?" "'E cured 'em right enough," replied Mr. Parbury. "Leastways 'e cured the guv'nor. Jackson 'ad a go o' cholera, but 'e managed to pull through." "And did the guv'nor get 'is sentence rejooced?" Mr. Parbury carefully finished the contents of his tankard and replaced it on the bar. "Yes," he said, "'e were a orficer an' a gentleman, an' e' kep' 'is word. 'E told the 'Ome Secret'ry as 'ow 'e thought it weren't right on the grounds of 'ealth to keep the doctor in the prison. 'E didn't say 'oose 'ealth, so the 'Ome Secret'ry nachrily thought 'e meant the doctor's, an' let 'im go." "Now come along, gentlemen, _please_," repeated the landlord impatiently. "Well," said Sam, as he rose slowly from his seat; "it's a wunderful interestin' tale, as you say, Mr. Parbury, an' it jest shows as 'ow it pays to be kind to dumb animals." Full-back for England Very quietly the long reeds that hedged the Okestock football field were parted aside, and a face peered cautiously through, taking a long and careful survey of the immediate neighbourhood. The face belonged to Mr. William Yard, known to his more intimate friends in London as "Pills," and to the police as one of the most daring and successful burglars of the day. A reason for Mr. Yard's prudence was not hard to find: the briefest glance at his khaki-coloured clothes, plentifully dotted with broad-arrows, made it quite evident that for the time, at all events, any form of publicity would be painful to him.