A voice from the darkness said, "Een gonyama-gonyama."     

       "Invooboo," replied the sentry argumentatively "Yah bo! Yah bo! Invooboo."     

       An indistinct figure moved forward.     

       "Who goes there?"     

       "A friend."     

       "Advance, friend, and give the countersign."     

       "Remember Mafeking, and death to Injuns."     

       "Pass friend! All's well."     

       The figure walked on into the firelight. The sentry started; then saluted and stood to attention. On his face was a worshipping look of admiration and awe, such as some young soldier of the Grande Armee might have worn on seeing Napoleon; for the newcomer was Clarence Chugwater.     

       "Your name?" said Clarence, eyeing the sturdy young warrior.     

       "Private William Buggins, sir."     

       "You watch well, Private Buggins. England has need of such as you."     

       He pinched the young Scout's ear tolerantly. The sentry flushed with pleasure.     

       "My orders have been carried out?" said Clarence.     

       "Yes, sir. The patrols are all here."     

       "Enumerate them."     

       "The Chinchilla Kittens, the Bongos, the Zebras, the Iguanodons, the Welsh Rabbits, the Snapping Turtles, and a half-patrol of the 33rd London Gazekas, sir."     

       Clarence nodded.     

       "'Tis well," he said. "What are they doing?"     

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