“That was a wonderfully smart _coup_!” said a ship’s officer to Mrs. Gregory and Sophy. “Those German fellows that were trampling all over the ship as if she was their own property were neatly caught. They will be shipped off to India out of harm’s way, and within a week or two, I fancy, will find themselves at Ahmednuggur.” The interned passengers had left ample space and a grateful sense of relief and freedom. As the _Blankshire_ throbbed down past “the Hastings” Shafto and Sophy stood side by side, taking their last look at the Great Pagoda, which gave an impression of being swathed in a mantle of dazzling gold, and dominated all its surroundings. “It seems only the other day we were coming up the river in this very old boat,” he said; “a year and ten months ago, and how much has happened in that time! Well, we have had strange experiences, seen many places, and made many friends. Here is one of them now,” indicating Mrs. Gregory; “I expect she feels a bit down, after parting with old George, although he does follow in three months; so do you try to cheer her, while I go below and hurry up the tea.” CHAPTER XXXVII THE TUG OF WAR One evening, after they had been several days at sea, as Sophy and Shafto were gazing down at the steerage passengers, she said: “I have noticed such an odd person watching you—he looks as if he knew you!” “Knew me!” repeated Shafto. “What is he like?” “A tall, broad-shouldered, lanky man—there he is, leaning over the side, wearing a blue serge suit and a soft felt hat.” Shafto stared for a moment, then he said: “By George! I _do_ know him—though I can hardly believe my eyes. I’ll go and speak to him and find out what this means,” and he hurried away below. “Hullo, Mung Baw!” he exclaimed. “Say, this is something like a surprise! What are you doing here?” “Much the same as yourself, sir. The Tug of War is drawing us all home. I have left Mung Baw and the yellow robe behind me, and I’m now Corporal Michael Ryan. I’m going into the Army again. Why, I’m only thirty-four when all’s said and done. Of course, the shaven head ages a fellow, but I’ll grow me hair on me passage home and, maybe, a moustache as well; someone told me that kerosene oil is a grand thing. And you are going to join up too, sir?” “I hope so; I put in two terms at Sandhurst, so I shall have a try. I should like to get into the Flying Corps.” “And what will herself say,” with a glance towards Sophy on the main deck, “to all this fighting and flying?” “Oh, Miss Leigh won’t stand in my way—she intends to look for a job, too. Tell me, Michael, do you really believe they will take you back into the Service after your adventure in Upper Burma—and seven years’ absence without leave?”