“Listenin’ to tracts. You can look! I’ve had the evenin’ of my little life. Lead on to the _Cornucopia’s_ midmost dunjing cell. There’s a crowd of brass-’atted blighters there which will say I’ve been absent without leaf. Never mind. I forgive them before’and. _The_ evenin’ of my life, an’ please don’t forget it.” Then in a tone of most ingratiating apology to me: “I soaked it all in be’ind my shut eyes. ‘I’m”—he jerked a contemptuous thumb towards Mr. Pyecroft—“’e’s a flatfoot, a indigo-blue matlow. ’E never saw the fun from first to last. A mournful beggar—most depressin’.” Private Glass departed, leaning heavily on the escort’s arm. Mr. Pyecroft wrinkled his brows in thought—the profound and far-reaching meditation that follows five glasses of hot whisky-and-water. “Well, I don’t see anything comical—greatly—except here an’ there. Specially about those redooced charges in the guns. Do _you_ see anything funny in it?” There was that in his eye which warned me the night was too wet for argument. “No, Mr. Pyecroft, I don’t,” I replied. “It was a beautiful tale, and I thank you very much.” A SAHIBS’ WAR THE RUNNERS _News!_ What is the word that they tell now—now—now! The little drums beating in the bazaars? _They_ beat (among the buyers and sellers) _“Nimrud—ah Nimrud! God sends a gnat against Nimrud_!” Watchers, O Watchers a thousand! _News!_ At the edge of the crops—now—now—where the well-wheels are halted, One prepares to loose the bullocks and one scrapes his hoe, _They_ beat (among the sowers and the reapers) _“Nimrud—ah Nimrud! God prepares an ill day for Nimrud_!” Watchers, O Watchers ten thousand. _News!_ By the fires of the camps—now—now—where the travellers meet Where the camels come in and the horses: their men conferring, _They_ beat (among the packmen and the drivers) _“Nimrud—ah Nimrud! Thus it befell last noon to Nimrud_!” Watchers, O Watchers an hundred thousand! _News!_ Under the shadow of the border-peels—now—now—now! In the rocks of the passes where the expectant shoe their horses, _They_ beat (among the rifles and the riders) _“Nimrud—ah Nimrud! Shall we go up against Nimrud_?” Watchers, O Watchers a thousand thousand?