The Keepers of the Kings Peace | Page 3

communicating

trenches," he said. "He's been boring me to tears over saps and things."
Hamilton shook his head.
"Wrong, sir," he said; "that isn't the lie he'll tell. He will say that I kept
him up so late last night working at the men's pay--sheets that he
couldn't keep awake."
Bones slept on.
"He may say that it was coffee after tiffin," suggested Sanders after a
while; "he said the other day that coffee always made him sleep."
"' Swoon' was the word he used, sir," corrected Hamilton. " I don't
think he'll offer that suggestion now--the only other excuse I can think
of is that he was repeating the Bomongo irregular verbs. Bones!"
He stooped and broke off a long grass and inserted it in the right ear of
Lieutenant Tibbetts, twiddling the end delicately. Bones made a feeble
clutch at his ear, but did not open his eyes.
"Bones!" said Hamilton, and kicked him less gently. " Get up, you lazy
devil--there's an invasion."
Bones leapt to his feet and staggered a little; blinked fiercely at his
superior and saluted.
"Enemy on the left flank, sir," he reported stiffly. "Shall we have dinner
or take a taxi?"
"Wake up, Napoleon," begged Hamilton, "you're at Waterloo."
Bones blinked more slowly.
"I'm afraid I've been unconscious, dear old officer," he confessed. "The
fact is---"
"Listen to this, everybody," said Hamilton admiringly.

"The fact is, sir," said Bones, with dignity, " I fell asleep--that beastly
coffee I had after lunch, added to the fatigue of sittin' up half the night
with those jolly old accounts of yours, got the better of me. I was sittin'
down workin' out one of the dinkiest little ideas in trenches --a sort of
communicating trench where you needn't get wet in the rainiest
weather--when I--well, I just swooned off."
Hamilton looked disappointed.
"Weren't you doing anything with the Bomongo verbs?" he demanded.
A light came to Bones's eyes.
"By Jove, sir!" he said heartily, "that was it, of course.... The last thing
I remember was..."
"Kick that man of yours and come back to the bungalow," Hamilton
interrupted, "there's a job for you, my boy."
He walked across and stirred the second sleeper with the toe of his
boot.
Ali Abid wriggled round and sat up.
He was square of face, with a large mouth and two very big brown eyes.
He was enormously fat, but it was not fat of the flabby type. Though he
called himself Ali, it was, as Bones admitted, "sheer swank" to do so,
for this man had "coast" written all over him.
He got up slowly and saluted first his master, then Sanders, and lastly
Hamilton.
Bones had found him at Cape Coast Castle on the occasion of a
joy--ride which the young officer had taken on a British man--of--war.
Ali Abid had been the heaven--sent servant, and though Sanders had a
horror of natives who spoke English, the English of Ali Abid was his
very own.
He had been for five years the servant of Professor Garrileigh, the

eminent bacteriologist, the account of whose researches in the field of
tropical medicines fill eight volumes of closely--printed matter, every
page of which contains words which are not to be found in most
lexicons.
They walked back to the Residency, Ali Abid in the rear.
"I want you to go up to the Isongo, Bones," said Sanders; "there may be
some trouble there--a woman is working miracles."
"He may get a new head," murmured Hamilton, but Bones pretended
not to hear.
"Use your tact and get back before the 17th for the party."
"The--?" asked Bones.
He had an irritating trick of employing extravagant gestures of a fairly
commonplace kind. Thus, if he desired to hear a statement repeated--
though he had heard it well enough the first time--he would bend his
head with a puzzled wrinkle of forehead, put his hand to his ear and
wait anxiously, even painfully, for the repetition.
"You heard what the Commissioner said," growled Hamilton."
Party--P--A--R--T--Y."
"My birthday is not until April, your Excellency," said Bones.
"I'd guess the date--but what's the use?" interposed Hamilton.
"It isn't a birthday party, Bones," said Sanders. "We are giving a house
--warming for Miss Hamilton."
Bones gasped, and turned an incredulous eye upon his chief.
"You haven't a sister, surely, dear old officer?" he asked.
"Why the dickens shouldn't I have a sister?" demanded his chief.

Bones shrugged his shoulders.
"A matter of deduction, sir," he said quietly. "Absence of all evidence
of a soothin' and lovin' influence in your lonely and unsympathetic
upbringin'; hardness of heart an' a disposition to nag, combined with a
rough and unpromisin' exterior--a sister, good Lord!"
"Anyway, she's coming, Bones," said Hamilton; " and she's looking
forward to seeing you--I've written an awful lot about