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"
"Kadir Buksh," said I, "that was well done, for the dog would
surely have killed thee. But I do not think the white soldier
will come any more."
Garm slept ill that night and whimpered in his dreams. Once he
sprang up with a clear, ringing bark, and I heard him wag his
tail till it waked him and the bark died out in a howl. He had
dreamed he was with his master again, and I nearly cried. It was
all Stanley's silly fault.
The first halt which the detachment of invalids made was some
miles from their barracks, on the Amritsar road, and ten miles
distant from my house. By a mere chance one of the officers drove
back for another good dinner at the Club (cooking on the line of
march is always bad), and there I met him. He was a particular
friend of mine, and I knew that he knew how to love a dog
properly. His pet was a big fat retriever who was going up to the
Hills for his health, and, though it was still April, the round,
brown brute puffed and panted in the Club verandah as though he
would burst.


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