Trapped by Malays | Page 2

door."
There was a few moments' intense silence, during which, in the tropic heat, it seemed as if Nature was plunged in her deepest sleep. Then came a renewal of the footsteps, a sharp tap upon the door, a loud "Come in!" and a very closely cropped and shaven, sun-browned face appeared, its owner clad in clean, white military flannel, drawing himself up stiffly as he held out the missive he was bearing.
"Letter, sir."
"Well, bring it here. My arms are not telescopes."
"Pouf! No, sir. Here you are, sir." And as the letter was taken the bearer's droll-looking, good-humoured face gradually expanded into a broad grin, and then seemed to shut up sharply as the young officer raised his eyes.
"Here, Pete, what were you grinning at? At me?"
"No, sir. That I warn't, sir. I never grin at you. I only do that at the Sergeant when he aren't looking."
"You were certainly grinning, Pete."
"No, sir; only felt comfy-like."
"Oh, that's right," said the young officer; and then to himself, "It is seven o'clock, and it is to get up his appetite, I suppose. Sharpen it on me.--Well, Pete, what have you been up to now?"
"I d'know, sir."
"Nonsense! You must know."
"S'elp me, sir, I don't. The patient one has got his knife into me as usual. I expected it was to be pack-drill, but I come off with a two bucket job--water for the cook."
"Now, look here, Pete; tell the truth for once in a way. The Sergeant wouldn't have come down upon you for nothing."
"What, sir! Oh, I say, Mr Archie, you can go it! Old tipsy Job not come down upon a fellow for nothing! Why, I have heerd him go on at you about your drill--"
"That will do, Pegg. Don't you forget yourself sir."
"Beg pardon, sir. I won't, sir; but there have been times when--"
"That will do."
"Yes, sir; of course, sir--when I have thought to myself if I had been a officer and a gentleman like you--"
"I said that would do, Pegg."
"Yes, sir; I heerd you, sir--I'd have punched his fat head, sir."
"Look here, Peter Pegg; I see you have been having your hair cut again."
"Yes, sir. It's so mortal hot, sir. I told Bob Ennery, sir, to cut it to the bone;" and the young fellow smiled very broadly as he passed both hands over the close crop, with an action that suggested the rubbing on of soap.
"Then look here; next time you have it done I should advise you to have a bit taken off the tip of your tongue. It's too long, Pete; and if I were as strict an officer as the Major says I ought to be, I should report you for want of respect."
"Not you, sir!"
"What!"
"Because you knows, sir, as I feels more respect for you than I do for the whole regiment put together. I talks a bit, and I never come anigh you, sir, without feeling slack."
"Feeling slack?"
"Yes, sir. Unbuttoned-like, and as if I was smiling all over."
"What! at your officer?"
"No, sir; not at you, sir. I can't tell you why; only I don't feel soldier-like--drilled up and stiff as if I had been starched by one of my comrades' wives."
"Well, you are a rum fellow, Pete."
"Yes, sir," said the man sadly. "That's what our chaps say; and Patient Job says I am a disgrace to the regiment, that I know nothing, and that I shall never make a soldier. But I don't care. Still, I do know one thing: I like you, sir; and if it hadn't been for seeing you always getting into trouble--"
"Peter Pegg!"
"Yes, sir. But I can't stop saying it, sir. If it hadn't been for you, and seeing you always getting into trouble too--"
"Pegg!"
"Yes, sir--I should have pegged out."
"What! deserted?"
"Yes, sir. Sounds bad, don't it?"
"Disgraceful!"
"Yes, Mr Maine, sir; but ain't it disgraceful for a sergeant to be allowed to hit a poor fellow a whack with that cane of his just because he's a bit out in his drill?"
"Drop it, Pete."
"And 'im obliged to stand up stiff, and dursen't say a word?"
"Didn't you hear me say, `Drop it'?"
"Yes, sir--and one's blood b'iling all the while!"
"Look here; you have been having it again, then, Pete?"
"Again, sir! Why, I am always a-having of it."
"What was it, now?"
"I telled you, sir: nothing."
"That was a lie, Pete. Now, wasn't it?"
"Not a lie, sir. Only a little cracker."
"Well, out with it."
"Not enough pipeclay, sir."
"Oh, I see."
"Jigger the pipeclay! It's a regular cuss. Ah, it's you laughing now, sir. Can I do anything else for you, sir?"
"N-n-no."
"'Cause the cook will be howling after me directly, and I don't want to be out with him."
"No, I suppose not; but what about that bait for fishing?"
"Oh, that's all right, sir. I will be ready. But don't you think, sir, if we was to go higher up the